Silent Memories
by Violette
Summary: ATF Something goes wrong with a bust that affects Ezra in an unexpected fashion. ***** It seems FFN has stripped my punctuation, so until I can fix it, you can read this on my site at www-dot-uplinktech-dot-net-/violette *remove the '-'* *******
1. Part 1

**Silent Memories **

by Violette

* * *

AU - ATF Universe 

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own them. I'm just taking them out to play for a while. 

**Warnings: **Language, violence 

**Rating: **PG-13 

**Genre: **gen, drama, angst 

**Summary: **Something goes wrong with a bust that affects Ezra in an unexpected fashion.

**Acknowledgements: **Thanks to my beta Katherine. Thanks also to Axianna for your critiques, and to MOG for creating the ATF Universe in which I am so fond of playing. 

**Notes: ** This is an answer to the July 2002 Challenge. 

_I would like to see stories where a physical change of some kind happens to one or more of the Seven, how he and the others react to it. Any _

_change you want, as long as it's physical -- some kind of disability, sense removal, becoming another gender or another age -- anything! All I _

_ask is, please, no death stories. If it's temporary or permanent, that's up to you. Any universe. Have fun!!_  


Part 1 

* * *

  


It happened instantaneously.  One moment they were rushing toward the warehouse, intent on rounding up the arms dealer and his men, and the next, they were flat on their backs and the warehouse was a glowing ball of fire.  

Buck was the first to come to his senses.  He sat up, rubbing his head and blinking his eyes to clear his vision.  He stared dumbly at the flaming building, trying to wrap his mind around what had just happened.  A sudden fear gripped him and he jumped to his feet, swaying for a moment before taking off at a run, yelling at the top of his voice, 

* * * * * * * * * * 

_– twenty minutes earlier –_

Ezra strolled confidently into the cavernous room, looking every inch the slick gun buyer he was portraying.  The undercover assignment had gone smoothly from the start and it hadn't taken him long to connect with Victor Pollard, a well-known weapons merchant that the ATF had been after for several years.  Vin, in his usual role as bodyguard, walked calmly by his side, armed to the teeth and ready to take down some bad guys.

Pollard walked forward to greet them, a wide smile on his ruddy face.  He was a large man, with a build that had probably once been strong and firm, but that was now soft and sagging due to years of overindulgence in the luxuries his illegal income afforded.   Edward!  So good to see you!

Ezra greeted him, plastering a smile on his face despite his disgust at having to deal with such a low-life.  Pollard might have been in the upper echelons of arms dealers, but to Ezra, he was no better than any other common criminal.  

Shall we get down to business? Pollard inquired, glancing greedily at the briefcase Ezra was carrying.

Of course. Ezra gestured elegantly for him to lead the way.

This way, Pollard said, directing them toward a stack of wooden crates.  One of his men removed some weapons and placed them on top of one of the crates.

Ezra said, indicating that Vin should check out the merchandise.  

Vin nodded and began inspecting the guns while Pollard's men warily watched.  A few minutes later, he gave a short nod to Ezra, who smiled and turned back to Pollard.

Is everything acceptable? Pollard asked, unable to hide the eagerness in his voice.

Kevin is satisfied with the quality of the product, Ezra said,  so it appears we may complete the transaction.

He seems to know his way around guns, Pollard observed with a smile.

He wouldn't be much of a bodyguard if he didn't, Ezra commented with a chuckle.  I believe you'll find the agreed-upon amount here.  He handed the briefcase to the gun dealer, who opened it and began to rapidly count the contents.  May I begin loading?

Of course, Pollard agreed, relaxing now that it appeared he was getting the required amount of compensation.

Bring the truck around, Kevin, Ezra said, nodding to Vin, who turned and strode out the door, a faint grin playing on his face.  This was his signal to bring in the rest of the agents who were waiting outside.  The operation couldn't have gone any better.  The smile broadened into a grin as he jogged toward his teammates and waved them in.

Inside, Ezra edged casually toward the door, in order to prevent any of the suspects from escaping in the coming confusion.  As he stepped around a collection of wooden crates, his world suddenly disappeared in a blast of noise and heat.  He flew through the air, crashing into a stack of cardboard boxes, which tumbled around him like a pile of wooden blocks being swept aside by a petulant child.  Dazed, Ezra lifted his head, searching for the source of the explosion.  His eyes locked on the figure of Victor Pollard, screaming as fire engulfed his body.  The gun merchant waved his arms wildly in a macabre death dance, trying in vain to put out the flames.  The stench of burning flesh assaulted his nostrils and the screams flooded his mind, but Ezra could not turn away.  His horrified gaze remained fixed on the flaming body until the smoke finally overwhelmed him and everything faded into blackness.

* * * * * * * * * * 

The night was filled with flashing lights and a cacophony of sirens.  The fire department had arrived in time to prevent any of the stunned members of Team Seven and Team Four from entering the building, much to their dismay.  They were men of action, not content to sit helplessly and wait while one of their own remained trapped inside.  But this time, they had no choice.  Paramedics had tried to convince them to go to the hospital and get checked out, but other than Vin, who had been knocked unconscious by the force of the blast, they had all refused.  They weren't leaving until they knew the fate of their seventh.

The firefighters gave the grim-looking men a wide berth, understanding the reason for their behavior.  The warehouse was fully engulfed in flames and the fire crew didn't believe that there would be any good news this night.  But still the men waited, silent and unmoving, hoping for the best.

A flurry of activity erupted near one of the doors as a group of firefighters hurried away from the burning structure, dragging something between them.  Their expressions remained unchanged, but the men of Team Seven stepped forward, watching intently as paramedics swarmed around the group and ushered them toward the waiting ambulances.  

The fire captain approached the ATF agents, instinctively identifying Larabee as the leader.  We found one person alive inside, along with four dead.  He eyed the silent men around him.  Give the EMT's a couple of minutes to stabilize him and then you can see if he's your man.  

Larabee nodded once, never looking away from the medics.

Thank you, Nathan said absently, briefly meeting the fireman's eyes.

The captain walked away, not offended by the lack of response.  He had dealt with such men before.  They were hard men, not prone to wasting words and emotions on an unknown situation.  Even the youngest agent, though he looked like he still belonged in high school, shared the same cool, impassive demeanor.  The captain was not fooled by the blank expressions.  He knew just how much emotion boiled beneath the surface.  He felt it himself, every time his own men went into a burning building.  There was nothing to do for it but wait... and pray.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Eyes still stinging from the smoke, Chris Larabee stared at the clustered emergency personnel, hoping for a glimpse of the man who was keeping them so busy.  The building crackled and hissed, seeming almost alive, blowing its torrid breath toward them.  But Chris – and the men standing mutely beside him – barely noticed.  

It was hard to express the horror that had raced through him when he saw the building explode.  Images of another fire flashed through his mind and Chris had to make a conscious effort to force them out.  He was aware of the concerned glances Buck had sent his way, and had reassured his old friend with a nod.  He had his emotions under control – for now. 

It seemed like they had been waiting forever when the paramedics finally waved to them.  As one, Team Seven walked toward them, their stride confident and determined.  Team Four followed at a discreet distance, ready to provide moral support, if needed.  Their pace slowed as they drew closer, until they finally stopped a few feet away from the lone survivor.  

Chris breathed, his shoulders sagging with relief at the sight of his undercover agent being tended by the paramedics.  How is he?

He's got some burns and took in some smoke, but he's stable, for the moment, one of the medics said, sparing him a brief glance.  He's damned lucky to be alive.

The agents watched silently as Ezra was loaded into the ambulance.  Chris climbed into the back with him, while the rest of the team hurried to their vehicles to follow them to the hospital.

Leaning against the side wall, Chris stared down at his agent, wincing at the reddened skin he could see peeking out from under the bandages on his hands and face.  Ezra lay unnaturally still, an oxygen mask covering most of the visible portion of his face.  Chris watched his chest rise and fall with each breath and marveled at the suave agent's ability to cheat death.  He approached each mission like a game of cards, plotting his strategy and exploiting his opponents' weaknesses, always managing to pull an ace out of his sleeve, even when things went sour.  But this was one poker game the devil wasn't going to win.  Chris chuckled aloud at that thought, earning a raised eyebrow from the attending EMT.  Chris shook his head.  Only Ezra could have him thinking in gambling terms.

* * * * * * * * * * 

When are they gonna let us see him? Buck complained as he paced the waiting room.

Relax, brother, Josiah said soothingly.  It's only been an hour.

But they said he was all right, JD protested, his voice hoarse from the smoke he had inhaled.

It always takes them a while to get everything set up, Nathan reassured them.  Hell, the blood tests alone can take hours.

What about Vin? JD persisted.  He's been here longer than Ez and we haven't seen him yet, either.

Relax, JD, Chris said.  I'm sure we'll hear something soon.

As if responding to his words, the doctor strode into the waiting room a moment later.  Mr. Larabee?  He scanned the formidable-looking group of men who reeked of smoke.

Chris answered his query.

I'm Dr. Franklin, he said, shaking Chris's hand.  You're here for Vin Tanner?

Chris replied.  How is he?

He has a severe concussion and some bruised ribs, the doctor began.  There doesn't appear to be any damage to the skull, but we're keeping him in ICU until he regains consciousness and we can run some more tests.

So he'll be all right? Chris asked.

He should be fine, Dr. Franklin answered with a smile.

Chris looked to Nathan, who nodded in confirmation.  A chorus of relieved sighs rippled through the assembled men.

When can we see him? asked Buck.

We can only allow two visitors at a time in ICU, the doctor warned, but there's no reason why you can't see him right now.

Chris nudged Buck.  Why don't you and JD go first?

Buck smiled, knowing that Chris was giving him something to occupy him and JD, to help ease their worries over their friends.  C'mon, kid.  He slung an arm around JD's shoulders.  Lets go see Vin.

As they headed down the hall, Chris turned back to the doctor.  We're still waiting for word on my other man, Ezra Standish.

I'll see what I can find out, Dr. Franklin said, nodding at Chris before he left the waiting room.

* * * * * * * * * * 

Awareness returned all at once.  Ezra's eyes snapped open and darted wildly about the room as he tried to determine where he was.  A strong antiseptic odor made his nose twitch and gave him a clue to his location.  He was, unfortunately, all too familiar with the sights and smells of the hospital.  He relaxed into the pillows, blinking to dissipate the blurriness from his vision as he looked around the brightly lit room that was bustling with activity.  From what he could see, Ezra surmised that he was in the emergency room, lying in one of the curtained cubicles that gave the illusion of privacy.  He was feeling somewhat lightheaded and concluded that he had probably been given some sort of drugs.  With a sigh, he searched his memory, trying to remember what had brought him here this time.

A vision of fire and pain flooded his mind and Ezra gasped at the intensity of it.  An explosion.  The warehouse had blown up around him.  His arms and face felt tight and painful and he hoped that the damage wasn't as bad as it felt.  He looked around, hoping for some sign of his teammates.  He didn't remember seeing them before the explosion, but he had no idea how close they had been to the building when it exploded.  

As Ezra scanned his surroundings, it suddenly struck him that it was strangely quiet.  Doctors and nurses were moving around and talking, but he couldn't hear them.  He looked to the side, staring at the heart monitor that usually annoyed the hell out of him with its endless beeping.  It, too, was silent.  Heart rate increasing, Ezra looked around again, hoping for some explanation, but everything appeared as it should.  Apprehensively, he lifted his bandaged hand and knocked it against the metal rail of his bed.  Nothing.  He repeated the action and still didn't hear the reassuring metallic ping that should have resulted.  Ezra closed his eyes.  _Not again._

When he opened his eyes again, he was looking into the concerned face of a nurse.  She was speaking to him, but he couldn't hear what she was saying.  Blinking, he focused on her mouth.

How are you feeling? she asked.

Like I've been blown up, Ezra answered carefully, watching her face for a response.  Relief flooded him when she smiled at him.  He hadn't lost his touch.  He could still read lips accurately.  While he couldn't make out every word that was spoken to him, his ability was good enough to allow him to figure out what was being said to him, even if he did miss an occasional word or two.

The doctor will be right in to see you, she said, patting his shoulder gently.

He nodded and watched her leave.  A few minutes later, the doctor arrived and he had to stifle a smile at the look on her face.  Hello, Dr. Landry.

Agent Standish, she said, looking at him disapprovingly.  We really must stop meeting like this.

I do try, Doctor, Ezra said, giving her a pained grin.

Not hard enough, apparently, she said with a wry smile.

So how am I?

Not too bad, considering, she said, looking over his chart.  How are you feeling?

My head hurts some, he admitted after a moment of consideration.  He knew he should be feeling some pain in his hands and face, but whatever medication they had given him was working very well, as all he could feel was a tingling numbness in the injured areas.

You've got yourself a bit of a concussion, the doctor explained, lifting one of his hands.  There are some first and second degree burns on your hands and face, but nothing too serious.  They aren't bad enough to scar, but they will be somewhat painful.  I'll be giving you some strong medication to take care of that.  She gave him a serious look.  It will take you longer to recover if you make yourself suffer needlessly, so I expect you to take them as directed.

He nodded at her, wishing she didn't know him so well.  

The cracked ribs are the worst of it, she continued, but they should be fine if you follow your doctor's instructions and rest.

I've had broken ribs before, Ezra said, smiling at the stern look with which she favored him.  He knew his attitude irritated her, but he couldn't help himself.

I'm aware of that, Mr. Standish, Dr. Landry said.  I'm also aware of how well you usually follow doctor's orders.  She lifted an eyebrow, daring him to contradict her.

He gave her a look that said, _Who, me?_

Dr. Landry sighed in exasperation, then turned to him seriously, Is there anything else bothering you?  Any other pain?

My ears are ringing a bit, Ezra said after a moment, not wanting to admit too much just yet.

Dr. Landry lifted the otoscope from the wall near the bed and peered into his ears, scowling faintly.  She put the instrument away then turned to him.  There's a bit of inflammation, but the eardrums appear to be intact.  It's probably an aftereffect of the explosion.  It ought to clear up in a few days.

Ezra smiled and hoped she was right.  He had been told that before, only it had taken much more than a few days.  Ezra sighed inwardly.  He debated telling Dr. Landry the truth, but then decided against it.  He might be able to pull this off.  If it were discovered that he couldn't hear, he would be forced to remain in the hospital, and this was the last place he wanted to be.  His teammates would also hound him endlessly if they found out, and would drive him crazy with their concern.  The only alternative was to pretend all was well and hope that things soon returned to normal.  If they didn't... well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

When may I leave? 

Dr. Landry shook her head in resignation.  She knew how this man felt about hospitals, and while she would have liked to keep him here for a few days, she knew he would never stand for it.  His teammates would surely be keeping a close eye on him, so, in the interest of her own sanity, she decided to let him have his way, this time.  I don't think we'll need to keep you here.  She raised a hand and eyed him sternly.  But, I want you to stay with someone tonight and promise me you'll come back if you have any other symptoms.

You have my word, Ezra said, relieved that his deception had worked.

she said with a smile.  Now, I believe that there are some very anxious men waiting to see you.

Ezra sucked in a breath.  How could he have forgotten?  In his worry over his own condition, he had forgotten all about his teammates.  They're all right?

Dr. Landry nodded.  Mr. Tanner has a concussion, but the rest of your friends are fine.

That's good to hear, Ezra said, chuckling inwardly at the irony of that statement, given the current state of his hearing.  Thank you.

You're welcome, she replied.  Now how about I send them in while I get your paperwork ready?

Ezra nodded as she turned away.  His head hurt, but he was going to have to concentrate in order to prevent his associates from discovering his deafness.  He could read lips, but it was more difficult when there was more than one person speaking to him.  It had also been a lot of years since he had exercised this skill in a serious fashion.  Unbidden, the memories returned.

* * * * * * * * * *

_Eight-year-old Ezra Standish was feeling quite pleased with himself.  He had finally beaten his older cousins at their own game.  All summer long, eleven-year-old Jeremy and thirteen-year-old Robbie had delighted in tormenting, teasing, and playing tricks on him, and getting him into trouble with his aunt and uncle.  Now, though, he gotten his retribution.  As he rode the small, rusty bicycle that they had allowed him to use, Ezra smiled to himself in satisfaction at what he had accomplished._

_Two weeks earlier, Robbie and Jeremy had gotten him in trouble yet again.  Jeremy had accidentally broken his mother's favorite antique bowl and Robbie had called to Ezra for help.  Foolishly, Ezra had fallen for it, believing that Jeremy was injured.  He had raced into the living room only to be tripped by Robbie, who had timed his move perfectly.  He and Jeremy escaped the parlor just in time to avoid their mother, who arrived home to find Ezra sitting amidst the broken china._

_His aunt had been furious and had not allowed him to explain, claiming that he was only trying to pass the blame onto the other boys to avoid being punished.  His uncle had been equally furious and had expressed it in a painful session with his belt.  Ezra had been restricted to his room for the week and had used his confinement to plot his revenge.  He was his mother's son, after all, and he was going to make sure his cousins paid for what they had done._

_Ezra laughed aloud, remembering the looks on the older boys' faces when their father had found his expensive power tools scattered around the garage, with a half-finished go-cart sitting off to the side.  Robbie and Jeremy had been working on plans for the cart with their father, hoping to build it before summer's end, but the man hadn't yet had the time to work on it with them.  Ezra knew they were forbidden to use the tools without supervision and had devised his plan accordingly.  While they had been playing at the nearby lake, he had sneaked into the garage and proceeded to start building their go-cart.  His aunt was out shopping and his uncle at work, so there was no one around to hear him while he set his plan into motion._

_Pedaling his bicycle up the dirt road toward the house, Ezra wondered how long it would take for his cousins to cook up a suitable payback.  They had been grounded for two weeks, so he still had most of that time to enjoy his success.  They knew he was responsible and had tried to tell their father that, but he didn't believe that an eight-year-old was capable of understanding the plans, let alone handling the tools needed to build the cart.  The fact that Ezra was a bit small for his age and was often clumsy when faced with manual tasks only supported his disbelief of their claims._

_As he drew nearer the big farmhouse, Ezra steeled himself for the dirty looks he was sure to receive during dinner.  His cousins were still angry with him and had been sending him looks that promised revenge whenever he was nearby.  He hated having such an adversarial relationship with them, but he couldn't for the life of him think of anything he had done to incite such behavior.  Ezra sighed, wondering if he would ever feel welcome anywhere._

_Ezra brought his bicycle to a stop next to the house and wheeled it slowly toward the garage.  He was still a few minutes early for dinner, and was in no rush to get inside.  He had just set foot on the first step of the porch when he heard the screams.  His first instinct was to turn and run, but he forced himself to continue up the stairs.  Apprehensively, he tiptoed across the porch and  peered through the kitchen window.  His heart caught in his throat at the sight of his cousins, tied up and bleeding on the floor, their eyes wide with fear.  He didn't see his aunt, but he heard her screams and tearful pleas and saw a large, scruffy-looking man yelling and pacing around the room.  From the sounds he heard, there was another man out of his sight, beating his aunt._

_Ezra drew back, his heart pounding in terror.  What was he going to do?  The house was located in a rural town that consisted of many small farms and nearest neighbor was quite a distance away.  There was also no guarantee that anyone would be home, even if he could make it there before his aunt and cousins were killed.  He thought quickly and decided that his only option was to get inside to a telephone.  His uncle was a police officer in a small nearby city; he would know what to do.  _

_Silently, Ezra crept around the back of the house.  There was a telephone in the master bedroom, which was on the ground floor at the back of the house.  Since he didn't dare use the back door, __he made his way toward one of the open master bedroom windows.  The house was not air-conditioned, so his aunt usually left windows open in most of the rooms.  Ezra stretched toward the window, but he wasn't quite tall enough to pull the external screen out of the way.  He looked around wildly, then remembered his bicycle.  _

_Keeping low and close to the house, Ezra hurried back to the garage and quietly wheeled the bike around.  He leaned it against the house, under the window, making sure it was steady before climbing onto it.  Ezra stood carefully on the seat, praying that the bike wouldn't move as he gently removed the screen and  pushed the window up far enough for him to crawl through.  _

_As quickly as he dared, Ezra squeezed his slim body through the gap in the window.  He landed with a slight thump and sucked in a breath as he waited anxiously to see if he had been heard.  After a few interminable minutes, there was no indication that anyone had noticed his presence, so  Ezra moved quickly to the telephone, nearly dropping the receiver from his trembling hand when he lifted it from the cradle.  Rapidly, he dialed the police, clenching and unclenching his fist nervously as he waited.  Finally, he was put through to someone and quickly explained the situation.  _

_Ezra replaced the receiver and looked around the room uneasily.  The police officer with whom he had spoken had told him to get out of the house if he could, so he made his way back to the window and started climbing out.  He set his foot carefully on the bicycle seat and slid the rest of his body out the window.  As he placed his other foot on the seat, the bicycle suddenly rolled sideways and with a gasp, Ezra tumbled to the ground.  _

_A cry of pain escaped him as he fell, landing hard on his left arm.  The bicycle rolled away and fell over with a crash.  As Ezra was struggling to his feet, a large man wearing dirty blue jeans and a frayed flannel shirt barreled around the corner, stopping short at the sight of the small boy on the ground who stared up at him with wide, terror-filled eyes.  With a growl, the man grabbed him and hauled him to his feet, ignoring his cries of pain as he dragged him into the house._

_Ezra did his best to keep up with the man, but he couldn't match the tall man's long strides.  Inside, the man shoved him into the kitchen, throwing him across the floor, where he slid into the wall.  _

_Found him outside, the man growled to his associate, an equally filthy man with a heavy beard and several missing teeth._

_What're you doin' here, kid? the bearded man asked Ezra, grabbing him by the hair._

_Ezra swallowed, attempting to calm his racing heart.  As frightened as he was, he knew the police were on their way and that he needed to do whatever possible to keep himself safe.  J-Jeremy goes to m-my school.  I was j-just coming over t-to play.  His eyes darted to his cousin, who was staring at him blankly, too numb with fear to comprehend anything._

_Is that right? the bearded man said with a grin.  Your bad luck, then, kid.  Ya need some better friends.  The two men laughed as though that were very funny._

_Ezra chanced a look around the room.  His aunt lay on the floor, her clothes torn and covered in blood.  It was obvious from the bruises on her and his cousins that these men had been beating them for some time.  He swallowed apprehensively, wondering if he was going to be next.  But, after a hard kick to his ribs and a warning by the first man to stay put, they had ignored him.  Ezra curled up into the corner and tried not to watch or listen as the men beat his aunt and cousins mercilessly, muttering about stupid cops and teaching them to mess with the McCall brothers._

_It seemed to take forever, but finally the police arrived.  The bearded man noticed them first, cursing and shouting, while the other man looked around frantically for a way out._

_What're we gonna do, Gabe? the man asked._

_We got hostages, Clem, the bearded man told his brother.  They ain't gonna mess wit' us._

__

_Don't worry, Gabe said.  I'll handle it._

_Ezra watched, not daring to move, as the two men discussed their escape plans.  He heard his uncle's voice over a bullhorn, demanding that they come out.  Ezra sighed inwardly, knowing that the two miscreants were not going to give up so easily._

_We gotta show em we mean business, Gabe said, his eyes lighting up suddenly as though he had made a great discovery._

_Ezra shivered at the look of madness in those eyes._

_Grab that one, Gabe said, pointing to Jeremy._

_Clem complied, pulling Jeremy out of his chair and following his brother out of the house.  Robbie watched, sobbing quietly._

_Ezra's aunt stared at them dazedly from the floor, then gasped and pulled herself to her hands and knees, crawling after them.  she croaked harshly, tears streaming down her face._

_Aunt Helen, Ezra said in a desperate whisper.  Don't!  They'll hurt you._

_But she was oblivious to anything but the fact that her son was in the grasp of two very bad men who apparently had a grudge against her husband.  She followed them out of the kitchen, pleading weakly with them to release her son._

_Clutching his aching arm to his chest, Ezra followed her, peering around the corner toward the front door, where the two men were yelling at the police.  His aunt approached them slowly, reaching out to Clem and pleading for her son's life._

_Get back, bitch, Gabe snarled, punching her in the face.  He turned toward his brother.  Give im to me.  He grabbed Jeremy by the scruff of the neck and stepped into the doorway.  I told you to back off!  _

_Ezra watched in disbelief as Gabe raised his gun, pointed it at Jeremy's head, and pulled the trigger.  His cousin's head snapped to the side and blood sprayed the door.  Ezra jerked at the loud gunshot, hitting his head on the doorjamb, but his eyes never left the gruesome scene.  _

_Everything was quiet for a moment, then a loud, inhuman wail broke the silence.  Horrified, Ezra watched as his aunt screamed and threw herself at Gabe, knocking him and Clem out the front door.  Police swarmed around them, taking the men into custody, but still his aunt kept screaming, clutching Jeremy's limp and bloody body to her chest and giving Ezra a clear view of what had been done to his cousin._

_Ezra's stomach churned and he backed away, shaking his head and repeating softly, No no no no no no.  Panicking, Ezra looked around the kitchen for a minute before running to one of the cabinets and crawling inside.  He wrapped his arms around his head to block out the screams and started rocking, trying to make it all go away._

Ezra sighed and rubbed his temples, wishing he didn't have such a clear memory of that particular event.  The McCall brothers had attacked his uncle's family as retribution for their brother's death.  His uncle had been forced to kill their younger brother a month earlier while responding to a bank robbery, and they decided that the best revenge was to attack his family in return.  

Both of the attackers had been sent to prison for life, but they hadn't lasted long.  Gabe McCall had killed himself just one year into his sentence and his brother had been killed in a fight several years after that.  After his cousin Jeremy's death, his aunt had never been the same, eventually committing suicide two years later, unable to cope with her son's violent death.  Ezra had never heard what became of his uncle and remaining cousin, since his mother refused to talk about such unpleasant matters.

Ezra sighed again, remembering how he had spent a week in the hospital with a dislocated shoulder – his first – a mild concussion, and cracked rib.  It was his sudden deafness that had baffled everyone, though.  He had awakened in the hospital, unable to hear, much as he had done today.  Then, it had taken weeks of testing before they had determined that his loss of hearing was psychological rather than physical.  According to the doctors, his tendency to keep his emotions bottled up – one result of his life with Maude – had been a major contributor to his psychosomatic deafness.  Ezra shook his head.   After witnessing such a brutal and gruesome scene, what else did they expect?  Even Ezra Standish had limits, and he had been a child, after all.

For eighteen months, he had lived in a world of silence.  Maude had been at her wit's end, unable to deal with a normal' child, let alone with one who had a handicap.  She had packed him off to a special school, where he learned sign language and lip reading, proving to be quite adept at both.  He had also sat through twice-weekly sessions with psychiatrists, who diligently attempted to bring him out of the trauma-induced silence.   It had been their contention that whatever he had seen or heard at the time of the incident had caused him to shut down his sense of hearing and block the whole thing from his memory.

Ezra snorted.  They were right, of course.  He hadn't remembered a thing about the incident until waking up one day screaming and completely able to hear again.  He had never talked to anyone about what had happened.  It was bad enough that he had witnessed it, without having to relive it for someone else's benefit.  The sound of his aunt's screams haunted him to this day and it had taken him many years to come to terms with it; it still gave him occasional nightmares.  As he took in the silence surrounding him, Ezra wondered if history was repeating itself.  

His gloomy reminiscence was interrupted by the boisterous arrival of his teammates.  Ezra couldn't hear them, but he knew they were creating their usual racket as they descended upon his cubicle.  

Ezra said with a smile at the men surrounding his bed.  

Geez, you sound awful, JD said, wincing at the harsh sound of his friend's voice.

Ezra said, noting the scratchiness in his throat for the first time.  I hadn't noticed.

Aside from the sore throat, how are you feeling? Josiah asked.

I'm quite well, Mr. Sanchez, he replied.  How is Mr. Tanner?

He's doing all right, Nathan answered.  He woke up a few minutes ago.  Doctor kicked us out to check him over.

Ezra relaxed back into his pillows, relieved at the news. That's wonderful. 

Ya look like hell, Ez, Buck commented.

Thank you, Mr. Wilmington, Ezra said sarcastically.  You're not looking so well, yourself.

Buck frowned and looked down at himself, realizing for the first time that his clothes were still covered in dirt and soot from the explosion.

Ezra chuckled.  All of you gentlemen could use a bath.

You saying we stink?  Chris asked, a faint smile playing on his lips.

If the shoe fits... Ezra said, waving his bandaged hand at them.

We are a bit dusty, brothers, Josiah said, brushing ineffectually at his dirty clothing.

Buck lowered his head and said something, but Ezra could not see his lips to decipher his words.  After a moment, Buck looked up at him curiously.  

Yes, Mr. Wilmington?  Ezra kept his poker face intact, hiding his confusion.

I asked you when you were getting out of this joint?

My apologies, Ezra said smoothly, covering his momentary lapse.  I was merely contemplating how you now match the state of untidiness of your domicile.

It took Buck a minute to figure out what Ezra had said, but then his eyes went wide and he scowled at Ezra.  My place ain't untidy.

Well it sure ain't clean, Nathan said, smirking in amusement.

Buck frowned and said nothing while JD flushed in embarrassment.

So when are they letting you out? Chris asked.

Ezra had opened his mouth to answer when Dr. Landry returned, carrying his release papers.  He watched closely, but couldn't make out much of the conversation she was having with his teammates, since their backs were to him.  

Dr. Landry turned to him and said, You're all set to go, Mr. Standish.

Thank you, doctor, Ezra said, looking over at his associates, who were watching him suspiciously.  

You're not gonna complain about having to stay with Chris? Nathan said.

Ezra groaned inwardly.  Of course.  They had been arranging the mother hen duty' with Dr. Landry.  Pasting a smile on his face, he said evenly, I promised the good doctor I would stay with someone tonight.

Like you ever do what the doctor says, Buck said, rolling his eyes.

Ezra sniffed.  A gentleman does not go back on his word. 

Nathan snorted.  Since when are you a gentleman?

Ezra gave him a dirty look, but softened it when he saw the teasing glint in the dark man's eyes.  If you don't mind, I'd like to leave now.  Despite his protests, Nathan stayed behind to help him into his clothes.  Finally, he was seated in the despised wheelchair, being pushed down the hallway.  The painkillers that Dr. Landry had insisted he take before leaving were starting to kick in and Ezra felt himself nodding off as they made their way to the entrance, where Chris was waiting with his truck.  He didn't remember much of the ride to Larabee's ranch, but soon found himself being helped into bed.  As he drifted off to sleep, Ezra had one fleeting thought.  What if it took another eighteen months for his hearing to return?

**_TBC_**

* * *


	2. Part 2

**Silent Memories **

by Violette

Part 2

* * *

  


"Damn!  No wonder he's always late," Buck remarked.  "Man sleeps like the dead."

"No kidding," Chris said, looking at his undercover agent, who was still sound asleep despite their loud attempts to wake him.  

"Those painkillers are pretty strong, Chris," Nathan said.  "He'll probably be out of it for a while."

"I thought we were supposed to wake him to check on the concussion?" Chris said doubtfully.

"Give him a couple more hours," Nathan suggested.  "The pills should have worn off by then.  Heck, the pain'll probably wake him up."

"That bad?" Chris asked, eyeing the man in the bed with concern.

"Burns hurt like hell, even the minor ones," Nathan said with a shrug.

"Shit, that means he's gonna be more ornery than usual," Buck said, looking at Ezra with a mixture of sympathy and frustration.  He hated seeing his friends in pain.

"Probably not," Vin said, coming up behind them.  "The more it hurts, the less he complains."

"What are you doing out of bed?"  Nathan demanded, glowering at the sharpshooter, who had been released several hours after Chris had left the hospital with Ezra.  The doctors had wanted to keep him there for another day or two, but he had put up such a fuss that the rest of the team had secured his release and brought him out to Larabee's ranch.  None of the men wanted to admit it, but they needed to be together to reassure themselves that their family was still intact.  

"I'm fine, Nate," Vin said crossly.  "Had to go to the bathroom.  Wanted to check on Ez."

"He's still sleepin'," Buck said, moving aside so that Vin could see him.

Vin grimaced at the sight of all the bandages on his friend.  "Damn, he's wrapped up like a mummy."

"He'll be fine," Nathan assured him.  "Come on.  Let's get you back to bed."

"M'hungry," Vin said, shrugging out of Nathan's grasp.

"You sure?" Chris asked doubtfully.  "You were puking your guts out all night."

Vin's stomach rumbled, as if in answer to the question.  The sharpshooter flushed in embarrassment while the other three men laughed.

"Guess that answers your question," Buck said.  "Let's get Junior somethin' to eat."

"Something light," Nathan insisted.  "His stomach ain't up to heavy foods yet."

The four agents moved into the kitchen to make breakfast.  

"Buck, you'd best get the others up," Chris said.  "We still have to get to work this morning."

Buck nodded and headed for the living room.  Josiah was still snoring on the couch, while JD was curled up on the floor in front of the fireplace.  "Rise and shine, boys," Buck bellowed, nudging JD with his foot.

JD groaned and rolled over, blinking sleepily at his roommate.  

"Get movin', kid," Buck said cheerily.  "Breakfast is gonna be ready soon."

Mumbling incoherently, JD slowly stood and shuffled toward the bathroom in his stocking feet.

Chuckling, Buck turned to Josiah, who cracked an eye open and looked up at him.  "Brother, your face is not what I hoped to see upon awakening."

Buck laughed.  "Have a good dream?"

"Yes," Josiah growled.  "And you sure as hell weren't in it."  The big man pushed himself to his feet, ignoring his laughing teammate as he lumbered off toward the second bathroom.

* * * * * * * * * *

"That's only coffee, Vin," Chris pointed out, taking in the blissful smile on his friend's face as he gripped the mug in his hand.

"You'd think it was a beautiful woman, the way he's lookin' at it." Buck said as he took a seat at the table.

"This is almost as good," Vin said with a happy sigh.

Buck snorted.  "You really need to work on your social life, boy."

"How's Ez doin'?" JD asked as he entered the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower.

"Still sleeping," Chris said.

"Yeah, he needs his rest," JD said, grabbing a plate and spooning some eggs from the pan on the stove.  "I'm just glad he wasn't hurt any worse."

"Man has more lives than a cat," Buck said.

"He's very lucky," Nathan said.  "I saw what was left of Pollard and his men."  He shuddered.  "Wasn't a pretty sight.  Ez would'a been just as bad, if those empty boxes that fell on him hadn't been treated with flame retardant."

"Is there any word on what exactly caused the explosion?" JD asked between mouthfuls of food.

Chris shrugged.  "They were still investigating last night.  I expect we'll hear something today."

"Might have been an accident," JD offered.  "Gas leak or something."

"I hope so," Chris said.

"Why?" Nathan looked at him, confused.

"If it wasn't an accident, then someone was targeting either us or Pollard," Chris explained.  "Neither possibility makes me feel warm and fuzzy."

"Shit," Buck said with a sigh.  "Last thing we need is a war between weapons dealers."

"Or someone out to kill us," Vin added.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra woke slowly and the first thing that registered was pain.  His entire body ached and it felt as though someone was peeling the skin from his arms and face.  With a groan, he rolled to his side and attempted to sit without using his hands.  It was difficult, and his ribs and back complained loudly at the effort, but he eventually eased himself up.  Standing slowly, he headed immediately to the bathroom and the bottle of pain pills that sat on the counter.  

He looked in the mirror as he moved to the sink and stopped short at what he saw.  His face and neck were swathed in a patchwork of bandages, and what skin was visible was red and blistered.  Carefully, Ezra ran his bandaged finger over his face, prodding gently at the wrappings.  The resulting pain was enough to make him reach for the pills without hesitation.  This was one instance where he wasn't going to have any problem following his doctor's orders.  He was fumbling with the lid when Josiah opened the door.

"Ezra?  Are you all right?"  He had pushed the door open and poked his head inside when Ezra didn't answer his knocks.

Ezra turned to him, stifling his surprise at the man's presence.  "Mr. Sanchez.  I see you have won invalid duty today."

Josiah chuckled.  "Nathan will be relieving me at noon."  He took the bottle from Ezra's bandaged hand.  "Here, let me get that."  He shook out a pill and handed it to Ezra, then filled a glass of water.

Ezra nodded gratefully and quickly swallowed the pill.  

"Do you need some help getting dressed?"

Ezra looked at his gauze-wrapped hands and frowned.  He hadn't thought about how limiting his injuries were going to be.  He hated to be dependent on anybody, especially these men.  "I believe I can manage."

Josiah eyed him skeptically, but knew better than to argue with his stubborn friend.  "Okay, just yell if you need anything."

Ezra simply nodded in reply.

After Josiah had left, Ezra fumbled through the bag of clothing his teammates had packed for him, smiling when he found some sweatpants and t-shirts.  He could manage those easily enough with his wrapped and clumsy hands.  He looked at the sneakers next to the bag and frowned.  Shoes were going to be a problem, though.  With a sigh, he slipped into the clothing, leaving the shoes where they were.  Socks would be enough while he was inside the house.

"Hey, Ez," Vin greeted him as he stepped into the living room.

"Mr. Tanner," Ezra said, sitting gingerly in the chair across from the sharpshooter.  "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Vin said.  "How about you?"

"I am fine," Ezra said.

"Bull," Vin said with a snort.  "You look like hell and I know them burns gotta hurt."

Ezra shrugged delicately.  "I have had worse."

Vin rolled his eyes.  "From what I hear, you're lucky not to _be_ worse."

"So I've been told."

"Pollard and his boys weren't nearly so lucky," Vin continued.  "Ended up extra crispy."

Ezra winced at the image.  "I'm glad I did not have to witness that."

"Witness it, hell," Josiah said, dropping onto the couch next to Vin.  "You almost ended up joining them."

"I suppose I ought to be thankful to Lady Fortune for smiling upon me," Ezra said, surprised at the depth of concern in the two men's faces.

"You got that right," Vin said.

Sensing a need to change the subject, Josiah leaned forward.  "You hungry?"

"Not particularly," Ezra answered, taking a moment to decipher the big man's speech.  Josiah was a bit harder for him to understand, due to the beard and mustache obscuring part of his mouth.

"I could eat," Vin said.

"You can always eat," Josiah remarked with a grin.  "I'll fix something for both of you."

Ezra opened his mouth to protest, but Josiah held up his hand to forestall any objections.  

"You need to eat, Ezra," the big man said.  "Nate said food will help you tolerate the medication better."

"Very well," Ezra said with a put-upon sigh.  He didn't want to admit it, but his stomach _was_ feeling a bit unsettled.

Josiah headed for the kitchen and Ezra leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes against the daylight streaming through the windows.  After a few minutes, Ezra opened his eyes to find Vin on the verge of standing, a worried look on his face.  "Is something wrong, Mr. Tanner?"

"You okay, Ez?"

"I'm fine," Ezra replied.  "Why?"

"You had me worried for a minute when you didn't answer me," Vin said.

"My apologies," Ezra said, mentally slapping himself for letting his vigilance slip.  "I'm afraid my mind was wandering a bit."

Vin slouched back onto the sofa and grinned.  "Yeah, getting knocked in the head will do that to you."

The two men sat in companionable silence until Josiah bustled back into the room carrying two plates of scrambled eggs and toast.  Vin sighed at the light meal, but knew his complaints would go unheard while his friends were in full worry mode. 

"Eat up, kids," Josiah said with a wide grin.  

Ezra lifted an eyebrow at him, but his bandages hid his forehead and the effect was lost.  He glanced over at Vin and said, "Kids?"

Vin shrugged.  "Compared to him, I guess we are."

Ezra chuckled at the offended look Josiah gave them as he headed back to the kitchen.  Turning to his food, Ezra tried to pick up the fork, without much success.  Finally, on the fifth attempt, he was able to grasp it with his thumb and fingers.  He looked up at Vin, embarrassed at his inept display, but paused when he noticed the sharpshooter looking at him oddly.

"What?" 

"I've been trying to talk to you for five minutes," Vin said with a frown.  "Didn't you hear me?"

Ezra looked away for a moment, suddenly afraid that he had given himself away.  "I was... distracted."

"Ezra..."  

Ezra couldn't hear the tone of his voice, but he could tell by the look that Vin was giving him that he wasn't buying it.  Licking his lips nervously, Ezra checked to make sure that Josiah was still in the kitchen, then looked back at Vin.  "My hearing is a bit... muffled."  He shrugged.  "Dr. Landry said it should clear up soon."

"From the explosion?" Vin guessed.

"Yes," Ezra said with a sigh.

"Why didn't you say something?" Vin asked, then waved his hand.  "Never mind, I know why."  He grinned at Ezra conspiratorially.  "They can be real annoying, can't they?"

Ezra chuckled.  "That they can."

"You seem to be hearing me fine now," Vin said, looking at him curiously.

"I am somewhat skilled in lip reading," Ezra explained.  

"Must be handy," Vin said with a thoughtful grin.  

Ezra rolled his eyes, knowing that the sharpshooter was already thinking up ways to use his talent to pull pranks on the rest of the team.  "It is an asset at times."  He pinned the other man with a serious gaze.  "I would prefer to keep this between us."

"Don't worry, I won't tell 'em."  Vin gestured toward the plate that sat on the coffee table in front of the undercover agent.  "You better eat that before Josiah decides to force-feed you."

Ezra rolled his eyes, but carefully started eating, praying that he wouldn't make a mess and embarrass himself further.  

Josiah entered the room and nodded as he saw that his two charges were doing as they were told.  He ambled back toward the sofa and sat down, setting his cup of coffee on the small end table next to him.  Stifling a yawn, he leaned back and watched Ezra's awkward attempts to eat neatly.  Smiling, he shook his head, knowing better than to offer his assistance, no matter how painful it was to watch.

When Nathan arrived a few minutes later, Vin had already polished off his breakfast, while Ezra was still making slow, but steady progress.  

"Hey, Nate," Vin greeted his teammate.

"Vin," Nathan said with a nod.  "How you feelin'?"

"Lots better than yesterday," Vin said.

"Good," Nathan said.  "But you still got to take it easy."

Vin rolled his eyes.  "Gimme a break.  It's not like I can do anything anyways, what with you guys fussin' over me all the time."

Ezra, who had been following the conversation closely, chuckled.  "They take 'fussing' to a whole new level."

Vin nodded then winked mischievously.  "But we know how to deal with fussin', don't we, Ez?"

"Indeed we do, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said with a sly smile, saluting him with his fork.

Josiah laughed at the younger men, while Nathan grumbled about them not knowing what was good for them.  

"What'cha got in the bag, Nate?"  Vin asked, referring to the grocery bag he had deposited on the floor while he shed his coat.  

"Figured I'd bring some food so there'll be something besides junk to eat when the rest of the boys show up for dinner tonight."

Vin peeked into the bag, then wrinkled his nose.  "Blech."

"Vegetables are good for you," Nathan countered.

"If you say so," Vin said with a shrug, knowing how much it irritated the health-conscious man.

"Neither one of you should be eatin' that usual garbage right now," Nathan said, unperturbed.  This was a discussion they had had many times before.

"You won't get any arguments from me," Ezra agreed.  He _liked_ vegetables.  

Nathan looked at him, watching him clumsily eat his eggs, and frowned.  He started heading toward the undercover agent, but Josiah pulled him aside, shaking his head.  With a nod, he picked up the groceries and directed the medic toward the kitchen.  Ezra had returned his attention to his food his food and missed the subtle byplay.  Vin didn't miss it, though, and nodded at Josiah in approval.

"What's up?" Nathan asked curiously.

"I know you mean well, but it might be best if you let Ezra do things on his own," Josiah suggested gently.  "You know how stubborn he is.  You'll just make it more difficult if you try to do things for him."

Nathan sighed.  "I know, but it makes me cringe to watch him struggling like that."

"I know how you feel," Josiah said sympathetically.  "It was hard for me to sit by and do nothing, but we have to let him do things his own way."  He grinned.  "Have patience, brother."

Nathan grinned.  "Ask me for somethin' easy, why don't you."

Josiah laughed and slapped him on the back as they walked back out to the living room.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra finally finished his lunch and spent some time conversing with Vin and Nathan before succumbing to the effects of the potent painkiller he had taken earlier.  For once, he was grateful for the numbing effects of the medication, both to kill the pain and to give him an excuse to be alone.  Being forced to concentrate so intensely while reading lips quickly taxed his limited energy and made his head hurt, so Ezra welcomed the respite provided by the drugs.  

As he leaned back into the soft pillows, Ezra sighed and wondered if he was going to be able to handle the group gathering that was obviously planned for that evening.  It had been difficult enough trying to keep track of two or three speakers at once.  How was he going to be able to manage the whole team for an extended period of time?  Ezra closed his eyes and frowned, wincing at the twinge of pain that the facial motion produced.  He could claim to be feeling poorly and retire to his room, but that would only serve to lengthen his incarceration at the ranch.  He had, after all, only promised to stay with someone for one night, and intended to get back to his own apartment as soon as he could arrange it.  It was going to be at least two weeks before he could return to work, and he did not wish to spend that time under the watchful eyes of his associates.  

Shuddering at the thought of being at the mercy of his teammates, Ezra started working through his options.  He had to plan his escape and find a way to return home with a minimum of fuss.  As various possibilities flitted through his head, Ezra found that it was getting harder to think clearly.  His brain seemed to be slowing down and he couldn't seem to keep hold of a thought for more than a few seconds.  Eventually, he conceded defeat and let himself drift off into a drugged sleep.  He would figure it out later.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Hey, Junior!"  Buck called as he strode through the door of Larabee's ranch house.  "You're lookin' a little better."  He squinted at the sharpshooter and grinned.  "Y'ain't green anymore, at least."

Vin replied with a rude hand gesture.

"Yep, he's definitely feelin' better," Josiah said with a laugh, slapping Buck on the shoulder as he headed toward the kitchen carrying a stack of pizza boxes.

"Pizza!" Vin said, a grin lighting up his face at the sight of one of his favorite foods.

"We thought you might be up to eating something a little more substantial by now," Chris said, shutting the door behind himself and JD.

Vin's grin suddenly faded.  "What about Ez?  He ain't gonna be able to eat that with his hands all wrapped up."

Chris paused and looked at Buck, frowning.  "Didn't think of that."

"He won't be able to tolerate pizza yet, anyway," Nathan commented from the kitchen doorway, having overheard the conversation.  "I made some chicken and vegetables for me and him."

"Aw Nate," JD said.  "Pizza ain't that bad for ya.  It's got cheese and tomatoes and stuff."

Nathan rolled his eyes.  "Yeah, but it's the sausage and pepperoni and all that other greasy crap that'll clog up your arteries."

Chris smiled as the two men continued their good-natured argument in the kitchen.  Some things never changed.

"I s'pose someone should go wake Ez," Vin said.

"He sleeping again?" Chris asked.

"Yep," Vin replied.  "Them pain meds really knock him out."

"You volunteering?" asked Buck, smirking at the sharpshooter.

Vin sighed and climbed to his feet.  "Me an' my big mouth."

* * * * * * * * * *

_The glowing mass was drawing closer while the smoke thickened in his lungs.  Ezra wanted to move away, to run, but he couldn't move.  He didn't know what the shimmering thing was, but something told him that he should fear its presence.  His panic rose when his body wouldn't respond to his commands, leaving him gasping for breath while his heart pounded wildly in his ears.  A sudden pain intruded upon his fright and, as suddenly as it appeared, the terrifying entity vanished._

Ezra's eyes snapped open, and he looked wildly around the room in which he found himself.  Recognizing the furnishings, he relaxed into his pillows, forcing his breathing into a more normal rhythm.  He became aware of another presence in the room and turned his head to find Vin staring down at him, his face creased with worry.

"You okay, Ez?" Vin asked.

Ezra gently brushed a bandaged hand over his face.  "Yes, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," Vin stated doubtfully.

"I merely had an... unsettling dream," Ezra said dismissively.  "Pain medication often causes this sort of interruption in my usual sleep patterns."

Vin still looked doubtful, but didn't press him further.  "The guys are here.  You feel like eating?"

Ezra desperately wanted to say "no", but knew that would only induce more worry and hovering from his well-meaning associates.  So, he smiled weakly and said, "I believe I could partake of a light meal."  He sat up carefully and eased himself to his feet.

"Need a hand?" Vin asked as Ezra swayed on his feet slightly.

"No thank you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said.  "I simply need to awaken further before attempting to move."  He walked slowly toward the bathroom.  "I will join you after I have freshened up a bit."

"Okay," Vin nodded, heading back out the door.

In the bathroom, Ezra looked in the mirror and grimaced.  The doctor had assured him that his burns wouldn't scar, but the ugly red blotches on his face didn't inspire much confidence in that diagnosis.  Heaving a sigh, he smoothed his unruly hair and clumsily brushed his teeth before steeling himself for the ordeal ahead.  He looked longingly at the pain pills, knowing that the dull aches and tingles would soon become sharper and more biting, but he needed to keep his senses alert if he was going to continue to carry off his deception.  He smiled grimly at the bandaged image that looked back at him.  He was an expert at the art of the con.  He could do this.

**_TBC_**

* * *


	3. Part 3

**Silent Memories **

by Violette

Part 3

* * *

"He comin' out?"  Buck asked when Vin returned to the living room alone.

"Yep," Vin replied, making a beeline for the open pizza box on the coffee table.  "Just wanted to 'freshen up' before he came out here."

"He must be feeling better if he's starting to fuss over his appearance," Josiah said with a chuckle.

Vin shrugged and dropped into a chair, taking a large bite of pizza.

"I'll go get a plate ready for him," Nathan said, heading for the kitchen.

Ezra ambled into the room and smiled at the assembled men.  "Gentlemen," he greeted them.

"Hey Ez," JD called, waving at the undercover agent.  

"How ya feeling, pard?" Buck asked.

Ezra panicked for a moment as his sluggish brain struggled to decipher what had been said.  "I'm feeling much better," he said, hoping he had understood correctly.

"Sit down," Chris said, gesturing to one of the overstuffed chairs in the living room.

Ezra studied the suggested seat and nodded, noting that he would be able to see everyone's faces from that location. Sinking carefully into the soft cushions, he looked at his teammates, relieved that they weren't paying him undue attention.  His gaze settled on the pizza boxes on the coffee table and he frowned.  Pizza didn't appeal to his stomach and it was certainly going to be difficult to manage with his bandages.  He saw Josiah's mouth moving and looked up quickly.

"... has something for you in the kitchen," Josiah said.  "It should be ready shortly."

Ezra smiled and nodded, forgoing any commentary as he settled in to watch the conversations around him.  Vin and JD were arguing good-naturedly about the merits of various video games, while Buck, Josiah, and Chris exchanged some office gossip.  They sent occasional comments and inquiries in Ezra's direction, but seemed content to allow him to relax in his chair.

Nathan came out of the kitchen after a few minutes carrying two steaming plates.  He deposited one on the folding tray that Buck had set up in front of Ezra and placed the other on the coffee table in front of his own seat.  

Ezra looked at the heaping plate and frowned.  "Mr. Jackson, I do not believe I will be able to consume such a large quantity of food."

"You need to eat," Nathan said brusquely, pointing his fork sternly at the plate.

Ezra opened his mouth to protest again, but changed his mind at the glare Chris was bestowing upon him.  With a long-suffering sigh, he picked up his fork – after several false starts – and started to eat the chicken, rice, and vegetables that Nathan had prepared.  The dark-skinned medic was a good cook, and Ezra enjoyed the dish, but was only able to eat half of the portion on his plate before he found himself too full to continue.  

It had taken  him a long time to eat, since his hands were clumsy, and he had needed to keep his attention focused on the others, so as not to miss any conversation directed at him.  The others had all finished their respective meals by the time he was done, leaving him the center of their attention.  Shifting uncomfortably, he attempted to redirect their focus.  "Is there any news as to the origin of the explosion?"  The grim expressions that greeted his question made him regret having opened his mouth.

Chris ran a hand through his hair.  "It was a bomb.  Remotely triggered."

Ezra's eyes widened in shock.  "A bomb?  Are there any suspects?"

"We don't know who the targets were yet, so it's still wide open," Josiah explained.

"Remotely triggered," Ezra murmured.  "That means they were targeting someone inside."

"Yep," Buck said with a nod.  

"It is possible that someone wanted to eliminate some of the competition in the arms trade," Ezra postulated.

"Or they could'a been after us," Vin said seriously.  

"Maybe you, in particular," Chris said pointedly.

Ezra swallowed reflexively at the thought, then smiled brightly at his associates.  "Now really, Mr. Larabee.  Who would want to do me harm?"

Ezra's comment was met with groans and eye rolls.  Larabee merely pinned his agent with another glare, shaking his head slowly.

After spending two hours discussing the situation, the conversation turned to more pleasant topics.  Ezra's head was beginning to pound and he found himself becoming more and more uncomfortable as the painkillers he had taken earlier wore off.  He was about to excuse himself, when Vin, ever-observant, noticed his discomfort.

"Hey, pard," Vin said.  "Ain't it about time for your pills?"

"I suppose it is," Ezra sighed, attempting to appear reluctant.  In truth, he was grateful for the intervention.  

"You look tired," Nathan added.  "Why don't you call it a night?"

"I'm fine," Ezra said automatically.

"Yeah, right," Buck snorted.

"You need your rest, Ezra," Nathan said, placing hands on his hips in a gesture that Ezra recognized as his 'I'm not going to take any more excuses' pose.

Hiding a smile, Ezra complied, grumbling that he was "fine" for good effect.  He didn't want to admit how weary he really was, since that would make escaping from the ranch even more difficult.

"You should be getting some sleep too, Vin," Nathan said, after Ezra had retired to the guest room.  "Concussions are nothing to mess with."

"M'fine, Nate," Vin retorted.  

"You'd say that even if you were laying there with fifteen bullets in ya," Buck said with a smirk.

Vin stuck his tongue out at Buck.

"You'll have to spend that much longer away from field work if you don't get enough rest," Nathan reminded the reluctant sharpshooter.  "I know how much you just _love_ riding a desk and writing reports."

"Fine," Vin growled, getting to his feet.  "Damn nags, all of ya."

The rest of the group watched him shuffle down the hall to the second guest room, grumbling all the way.

"So who gets stuck with the dynamic duo tomorrow?" Josiah asked.

"It's Buck's turn," JD said, earning him a glare from his roommate.  JD would have offered to do it himself, but he knew the others would never allow it, thinking him too gullible to deal with Vin and Ezra.  He didn't think of himself as gullible; he simply saw things from the same point of view as his teammates.  

As the three youngest agents on the team, he, Ezra, and Vin were usually subjected to the most attention when they were hurt or sick.  He didn't mind the attention so much himself; it was the others treating him like a little kid that drove him crazy.  Vin and Ezra weren't as bad as the others, though, treating him more as an equal than as an errant little brother.  They didn't, however, take well to 'fussing', as Vin called it, since they were both used to being on their own and chafed under the constant attention dispensed by the older members of the team.  JD figured it was because they didn't like anyone else being around when their defenses were down.  The young agent chuckled inwardly.  It was easier to let the 'big brothers' think he was naive and gullible than to admit to agreeing with the other two agents.

Chris nodded at JD's suggestion.  "He's right, Buck.  Josiah and Nate have done their duty.  You stay with them tomorrow morning.  I'll come by at noon to take over."

"Don't need no babysitters!" came a muffled yell from the direction of the guest rooms.

"Get your ass to bed, Tanner," Chris yelled amidst the snickers of the others.  

"Cranky, ain't he?" Nathan said, grinning broadly, glad that he wouldn't have to deal with the two stubborn men tomorrow.

Buck groaned.  "All right, all right.  Guess I'll just crash on your couch tonight.  No sense going home if I'm just gonna come back out here in the morning."

"You going to keep them both here all weekend?" Josiah inquired, remembering that the next day was Friday.   

Chris grimaced at the thought of dealing with both of the cantankerous agents for the entire weekend.  "Don't know yet.  Depends on how Ezra's doing tomorrow."

"He really shouldn't be left alone," Nathan said.  "Vin should be okay, but I'd feel better if someone was watchin' out for both of 'em."

"Yeah," Chris agreed.  "We'll figure it out tomorrow."

* * * * * * * * * *

Vin grimaced as he listened, ear pressed up against the door, to the conversation down the hall.  He was gonna have to get himself and Ezra out from under the thumbs of their well-meaning, but annoying teammates.  The older men were as protective as a bunch of big brothers, but at times like this, Vin simply wanted to go back to being an only child.  He knew Ezra felt the same way and began thinking of ways to get them out of this predicament.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra greeted the day to the sight of Vin's smiling face.  He glanced at the clock and groaned.  It was only 7:00 AM.  "Mr. Tanner, what on earth could make you so cheerful at this ungodly hour of the morning?"

"Well, if you're up for it, what do you say we blow this joint?" Vin said conspiratorially.

Ezra smiled and nodded.  He was more than ready to go back to his own apartment.  "Whenever you're ready."

Vin held a finger to his lips, urging him to speak more softly. "Buck's on duty today," he said in what Ezra deduced was a whisper.  "I figured you and me could go out and check on the horses, and then 'borrow' Buck's truck when he's not looking."

"That seems like a sound plan," Ezra said in what he hoped was a low voice, nodding slowly as he considered the plan.  "Do you have his keys or shall we hotwire the beast?"

Vin dangled Buck's keys in response.  "Snagged 'em while he was still sleepin'."

"I believe my bad habits are rubbing off on you, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said with a chuckle as he eased himself to a sitting position.

"Need some help?"

"I could use some assistance wrapping my hands before I shower," Ezra admitted after a moment of thought.  He was dying to take a shower, but had been strongly warned against getting his burns wet.  He could manage to keep his face mostly dry, but his hands would be more difficult.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Vin eyed him doubtfully.  

Ezra shrugged.  "No, but I am weary of the odor of smoke that permeates my person."

"I could give you a hand, if you want?" Vin offered carefully, unsure of how the private man would react to an offer of assistance with such a personal task.

Ezra pondered this for a moment before replying tentatively, "You could aid me in adjusting the shower."  

"Okay," Vin said with a smile as he turned toward the bathroom.

Ezra followed, and soon was in the shower, feeling rather foolish as he washed his hair with hands covered in the plastic sleeves in which Larabee's newspapers were wrapped for delivery.  Vin had taken a seat in the bedroom and had insisted that he leave the bathroom door open in case he required more help.  It was an unexpected, yet comforting gesture.

Ezra smiled at the friendship he shared with the quiet sharpshooter.  In the year he had been with Team Seven, he had found that he had more in common with Vin than with any of the others on the team, despite their outward differences.  They both were very private, rarely discussing their personal lives, and they shared similar loner tendencies.  The long-haired agent had also been the most persistent in cajoling him into participating in activities with the rest of the team.  It was a strange sensation for Ezra to actually have a friend with whom he could relax and let down his guard somewhat.  

It surprised Ezra how quickly he had begun to trust the other man.  Trust was not something that came easily to him, but something about the former bounty hunter inspired confidence that he would not betray him like so many others before.  It was going to take some time for him to gain that level of comfort with the other members of the team, but for the first time in years, Ezra actually believed it might happen.

After some futile fumbling, he gave up on turning off the shower and stepped out of the stall, clumsily grabbing a towel off of the rack.  

Vin, hearing the commotion, poked his head through the door.  "Everything okay?"

Ezra grinned at him sheepishly.  "I was unable to turn off the faucet."

Vin chuckled and reached in to shut off the water, then turned to help Ezra remove the plastic bags from his hands.  "I'll go rustle up some breakfast for us."

"I will be there shortly," Ezra replied.  "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Tanner."

Vin waved dismissively as he left the bathroom.

Ezra rubbed his hair dry and tried to comb it into some sense of order, but managed only to make it slightly less unruly.  He didn't even bother to shave.  Given the burns scattered across his face, he didn't think it wise to attempt the delicate process with his current lack of dexterity.  He eyed the bottle of painkillers, but decided to wait until after breakfast to take any.  If he and Vin were going to be successful in their escape, he needed to have his wits about him.

Ezra entered the kitchen to find Vin flipping a pancake in the air and catching it on the griddle.

Buck, seated at the table, applauded and whistled.  "Nice catch!"

"Impressive," Ezra said with a smile.  "I hope the taste of this culinary delight is as exceptional as its flight characteristics." 

"Damn, Ez, it's too early in the morning for the ten-dollar vocabulary," Buck said, shaking his head.

Vin merely rolled his eyes and continued making his pancakes.  

Ezra joined Buck at the table, accepting the cup of coffee Buck poured with a grateful nod.  "Thank you, Mr. Wilmington."

"Awful early for you, ain't it?" Buck commented, scrutinizing the southerner closely.

"I did retire rather early last evening," Ezra pointed out.  "One can only sleep so much."

"Never thought I'd hear you say something like that," Buck said with a chuckle.

Ezra was about to respond when Vin slid a plate of pancakes in front of him.  He was pleased to note that the sharpshooter had not over-filled his plate, as some of his teammates were wont to do.  He never ate as much in the morning as the other men.  "Thank you, Mr. Tanner."  He watched with amusement as Vin dropped a plate in front of Buck and then slid into a seat with his own heaping plate, dousing it heavily with syrup before starting to eat.

"Hey, save some of that for me!" Buck said, snatching the syrup off of the table.  Turning to Ezra, he asked, "You want some?"

"Just a bit," Ezra replied.

Buck tipped some syrup onto Ezra's plate until he held up his hand to signal that it was enough, then poured a generous dollop onto his own stack of pancakes.  

"These are quite good, Mr. Tanner," Ezra remarked.

"Thanks," Vin said, pleased that his cooking was up to the undercover agent's high standards.

Buck finished eating first, letting loose a loud belch as he leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach.  

"Guess Buck liked 'em, too," Vin commented with a grin.

Ezra hadn't heard it, but recognized the expression on Vin's face.  Knowing Buck, he could hazard a pretty good guess as to what the man had done.  "Really, Mr. Wilmington.  Some of us are still eating."

Buck laughed and poured himself some more coffee.  "Just expressing my appreciation for Junior's cooking."  He slapped Vin on the back as he left the kitchen.

Ezra and Vin finished their breakfast in comfortable silence.  Vin removed the plates when they were done, stacking them in the dishwasher.  Turning around, he grinned at Ezra and nodded his head toward the outside.  

Returning the smile, Ezra stood and followed him out of the kitchen.  As he stepped through the doorway, his hand brushed the door frame and he winced at the jolt of pain that raced up his arm.

Buck noticed his expression and said, "Guess those happy pills haven't kicked in yet?"

Ezra didn't make out all of the words, but had a general idea of what Buck had said.  "I haven't taken them yet."

"Want me to get 'em?" Vin asked.

Ezra nodded, grateful that he wouldn't have to wrestle the child-proof lid off of the bottle again.  

Vin returned a few minutes later with the bottle, shaking out one pill. 

"Thank you, Mr. Tanner."  Ezra started toward the kitchen for some water, but Vin waved him away.  "I'll get it.  No sense you fightin' with the faucets again."

Ezra sighed and nodded reluctantly, hating that such simple things were causing him such difficulty.  

After he had taken the pill, Vin discreetly tucked the bottle into his pocket.  "Hey, Buck.  We're gonna go check on Peso and Chaucer."

Buck waved at them, not looking up from the women's volleyball game he was watching on one of the forty-seven sports channels that Chris's satellite system received.  

Grinning, Vin and Ezra headed out the front door.  

"I do want to see Chaucer," Ezra said, angling toward the barn.  "And this way, they can't accuse us of being untruthful."  He smiled broadly at Vin, his gold tooth catching the early morning sunlight.

"I like the way you think," Vin said, clapping his friend gently on the shoulder.

After spending a few minutes with their horses, Vin strolled back to the house and peeked through the window, while Ezra made his way toward Buck's truck.  Finding Buck still engrossed in the volleyball game, Vin waved at Ezra, who climbed behind the wheel and put the vehicle into neutral.  They had decided to push the truck down the driveway before starting it, to give themselves some additional time before Buck noticed their absence.

It took a few minutes of struggling, but the truck finally began to roll, picking up speed on the slight slope of the driveway.  Once they were far enough away, Ezra moved aside while Vin jumped into the driver's seat and started the truck.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra entered his apartment and smiled, relieved to be back in his own home.  He sank into his soft couch and gave Vin a tired smile.  "Free at last."

"You know this is the first place they're gonna look for you," Vin reminded him.

"Yes, I know.  I suppose I ought to make other arrangements." Ezra sighed, trying to gather the energy to pack a bag.

Vin studied his friend, noting his increasing fatigue.  He knew Ezra wanted to take care of himself, but he wasn't comfortable leaving him on his own just yet.  He thought about it for a minute than made his decision.

"I'm gonna go grab some stuff at my place and drop Buck's truck off at the office," Vin said.  "If you want, I know a place we can hide out for a few days."  He looked at Ezra hopefully.

Ezra knew what Vin was trying to do and stifled a smile.  The Texan was as protective of his friends as any of the others, but his laid-back demeanor was much easier to take than their smothering approach.  Besides, it wouldn't hurt to have a bit of assistance – and company – for another couple of days.  "That sounds like an excellent idea, Mr. Tanner."  

Vin nodded and left quickly, knowing that it wouldn't be long before Buck became aware of their disappearing act.

Ezra slowly stood and headed for the bedroom to pack his things.

* * * * * * * * * *

Vin drove to his apartment and packed quickly, then drove to the federal building, which was closer to both his and Ezra's apartments than the loft Buck shared with JD.  It didn't take long to get a taxi, and a short time later, he was back at Ezra's place.  Dropping his duffel bag on the sofa, he called out, "Ez?  You ready to go?"  There was no response, so he made his way down the hall toward the bedroom, figuring that the undercover agent had fallen asleep.  

"Ez?" He stood in the doorway, a puzzled frown on his face.  The southerner was putting some items into a small suitcase, his back to the door.  "Ez!" he shouted.  But the other man didn't turn around, and made no indication that he was aware of the Vin's presence.  Stealthily, Vin stepped up behind Ezra and sharply clapped his hands together several times.  Nothing.  With a sigh, Vin tapped his friend on the shoulder.

Ezra was arranging his clothing neatly in the suitcase when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  Whirling around, he dropped into a defensive stance, then winced at the pain in his ribs.  He dropped his head and smiled when he saw Vin standing behind him.  "Mr. Tanner.  You startled me."

"I noticed," Vin said, still frowning.

Noting the intense stare with which he was being favored, Ezra cocked his head to the side and inquired, "Is something amiss?"

"You tell me," Vin challenged.  "I've been standing here for five minutes trying to get your attention."

"I..." Ezra trailed off, seeing the knowing look in the sharpshooter's eyes.  He wasn't going to be able to con his way out of this one.  He shrugged and smiled weakly.  "I was preoccupied?"

"Try again."

Ezra sighed.  "Very well, Mr. Tanner.  If you must know, I did not hear you.  In fact, I cannot hear anything."

"Nothing?" Vin said, eyes widening in surprise.  He had guessed that Ezra's hearing was in worse shape than he had admitted, but didn't expect to hear that it was completely gone.  

Ezra nodded, shifting uncomfortably under the sudden scrutiny.

"But you can understand me?"

"I can read lips," Ezra explained quietly.

"Is it from the explosion?"

Ezra nodded again.  "Dr. Landry informed me that there was some inflammation in my ears that should disappear within a few days."

"Does she think that's the reason for it?" Ezra flushed slightly and Vin groaned aloud.  "You didn't tell her, did you?"

Ezra shook his head.  "I assumed it would clear up on its own."

"Are you nuts!" Vin shouted.  "This is serious, Ez.  You can't go hiding something like that!"

"I know that," Ezra said stiffly, "but as you can see, I am managing quite well."

"Quite well my ass!" Vin raged.  "Serious problems like this don't just go away!"

Ezra flinched and turned away, knowing that Vin was correct.  It was just difficult for him to contemplate the alternatives.  "It did last time," Ezra said softly, fear and defeat in his voice.  He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth.

Vin grabbed his shoulder and turned him around.  "What do you mean, 'last time?'"

Ezra shook his head and tried to turn away, but Vin held firm.

"Talk to me, Ez," he said, worry etched on his face.

Running a careful hand over his hair, Ezra sighed.  "Not here.  Let us depart before the rest of our merry band arrives to take us back to captivity."

Vin stared at him for a moment, then nodded shortly.  "All right, but we _are _going to talk about this."

Ezra nodded, feeling an odd sense of relief.  Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that Vin knew about his infirmity.  At least he wouldn't have to pretend anymore when he was around him.

"Need some help packing?"

"This is the last of it," Ezra said, dropping a sweatshirt into his bag before closing it.

Vin grabbed the bag out of his hand and headed for the door.  Ezra shook his head and locked the door behind him as he left the apartment.  

Outside, Vin tossed Ezra's bag into the jeep next to his own duffel and opened the passenger door – which sometimes got stuck – for Ezra, who climbed in quietly and leaned his head against the back of the seat.  The drugs had begun to take effect, and he felt his eyelids growing heavier.  Minutes after they left, he was fast asleep.  

* * * * * * * * * *

A sudden jolt roused Ezra from his slumber and he blinked sleepily, peering out the window at the terrain.  Trees flew by at a rapid pace and dust rose from the dirt road upon which they were currently traveling.  There were no buildings in sight.  He turned to Vin, who was concentrating solely on the road, and asked curiously, "Mr. Tanner?  What is our destination?"

"Hey, Ez," Vin said, turning to face him.  "How you feeling?"

Ignoring the question, Ezra asked, "Where are we?"

"We're about two hours outside of Denver," Vin answered.

Ezra looked at the scenery again, then frowned.  "You aren't dragging me out into some godforsaken wilderness, are you?"

"Not exactly," Vin said with a laugh.  "You'll like this place.  Trust me."  

"I do," Ezra said softly.

Vin shot him a surprised look, wondering if Ezra had meant for him to hear the comment, but the undercover agent's expression was unreadable.  Shaking his head in exasperation, he waited until Ezra looked in his direction, then said simply, "We're almost there."

Ezra nodded, then closed his eyes again.

**_TBC_**

* * *


	4. Part 4

**Silent Memories **

by Violette

Part 4

* * *

When he next awoke, Ezra found himself alone in the jeep.  He sat up and looked around apprehensively, relaxing when he saw Vin carrying their bags into a tidy log cabin.  He reached for the seatbelt, sighing in frustration when he couldn't get it opened.  He was still working at it when Vin returned.

"Let me get that." Vin reached across and opened the buckle with ease.

Ezra scanned the area, not seeing any other buildings nearby.  They were surrounded by dense forest that was interrupted only by the dirt road they had used to get to the cabin.  "You don't consider this to be wilderness?"  he asked, uncomfortable with the thought of 'roughing it' in his present condition.

Vin smiled and shook his head.  "Just wait."

Ezra eyed him suspiciously, but followed him silently into the cabin.  Stepping through the door, he stopped short, his eyes widening in surprise.  The inside of the cabin was beautiful.  The walls were covered in oak paneling and Indian rugs woven in vibrant colors were scattered across the polished oak floors.  Two maroon overstuffed sofas graced the center of the large living room, and a television stood on a compact cabinet in the corner.  A huge stone fireplace flanked by tall bookshelves took up the left side of the room, and large windows provided plenty of natural lighting.  On the right hand side of the cabin was a spacious kitchen with elegant, but simple oak cabinets and modern appliances.  A small, tiled table with four chairs stood at one end of the kitchen, next to a set of French doors leading to the deck.  Between the kitchen and living room was a hallway that led to what Ezra assumed were bedrooms.

"What do you think?" Vin asked.

Ezra looked at his friend, noting the touch of apprehension in his eyes, as though he were afraid the cabin would be too rustic for his tastes.  "It's wonderful, Mr. Tanner."  He looked at Vin with a smile, making sure the other man could see the truth in his eyes.  "Is it yours?"

Vin blushed slightly and nodded.  "Yeah.  Bought it off an old bounty hunting pal a few years ago.  He used to use it as a hunting cabin, but was heading back east after he retired.  It was kind of a dump, so he didn't ask much for it."  He shrugged self-effacingly.  "I've been fixing it up some."

"It's beautiful.  I'm honored that you've allowed me to see it," Ezra stated sincerely.  

Vin relaxed visibly and returned the smile.  "You ain't even seen the best part, yet.  Come on."  He led Ezra down the hallway, stopping at the first door on the left.  It was a large, comfortable bedroom, dominated by a huge, antique four-poster bed.  The curtains, rugs, and comforter were done in hunter green and navy blue, accenting the warm oak walls and floors.  An antique dresser and nightstand, unmatched, yet coordinating with the bed and furnishings, completed the room.

"Now _that_ looks like a comfortable place to sleep," Ezra said approvingly.

Vin snorted.  "I figured you'd appreciate it."

They left the room and moved to the next room on the left, which proved to be another sizeable bedroom, with similar antique furnishings, including another four-poster bed.  This room was decorated in shades of blue and yellow, with homey braided rugs scattered on the floor. 

"Mr. Tanner, I'm impressed," Ezra stated.  "Did you do your own decorating?"

Vin nodded, looking embarrassed.

"You have very good taste," Ezra said,  "and quite an eye for color."

"I thought you considered us all to be 'uncouth barbarians?'" Vin asked with a grin.

"That was before I saw this place," Ezra countered.  "You've been hiding your light under a bushel, my friend."

Vin shrugged, both pleased and embarrassed by the compliments, then led the way to the room across the hall.  

It was another bedroom, longer and wider than the other two, and done in varied shades of green.  It was furnished with a trio of oak dressers and a matched set of three extra-long twin beds.  Ezra looked closely at them, then asked, "Did you build those?"

"Yep," Vin answered.  "Did the kitchen cabinets, too."

"You are quite the carpenter," Ezra said, a touch of awe in his voice.  He grinned broadly at Vin.  "Now I know who to call when my furniture needs repairs."

Vin rolled his eyes and tugged on Ezra's arm.  "Come on.  One room left."

The last room was a spacious and well-appointed bathroom.  A wide shower stall with gray granite walls and a bench on one end took up most of the left side of the room.  On the far end of the room, under the window, was a huge bathtub, complete with spa jets.  A double sink and toilet filled the rest of the space on the right side.  The fixtures were new, but in an antique style that complimented the decor of the rest of the house.  

Ezra shook his head in wonder.  "A jacuzzi tub, Mr. Tanner?  I didn't think you went in for such luxuries."

Vin shrugged.  "I remembered how nice it was when I used the one at your place after I got banged up on the DeNucci case, and I figured that kind of thing happens often enough to make it worth having one for myself."

"Too true," Ezra said with a laugh.  "That was a major reason for my own purchase."  He took another look at the bathroom, then frowned.  "How do you provide power to run it out here?"

Vin grinned.  "Well, there's a generator out back, but it's only for backup.  I got a direct power line to this place."

"Out here?" Ezra asked curiously.  "How, may I ask?"

"Bill – that's my old friend – he was a fanatic about sports, especially football and hockey, and he hated to miss the games on TV when he came out here."  Vin chuckled and shook his head.  "He had a friend who worked for the electric company and he managed to get them to hook him into one of the lines that runs not too far from here."

"That certainly makes things easier."

"Yep," Vin agreed.  "I come out here a lot after some of the tougher cases, so it's kind of nice not to have to rough it too much."

The two men returned to the living room, where Vin started a fire in the fireplace.  Ezra wandered into the kitchen and, with some difficulty, started a pot of coffee before returning to the living room.  He sank into the sofa across from Vin and let out a sigh. 

"Won't the others know to search for us here?" Ezra asked.

Vin shook his head.  "Nobody else knows about this place."

"Oh," Ezra said, stunned by the declaration.  He had assumed that he was the last to know of the cozy retreat.  "Why did you decide to share it with me?"

Vin didn't answer at first, and Ezra began to regret asking the question.  Finally, Vin said, "I figured you would understand about having a place for yourself, where you can be alone without worrying about anyone finding you."

Ezra stared at him thoughtfully, then nodded.  "You're right.  I do understand."  He grinned suddenly.  "In fact, I have my own quiet retreat from the world, much like this.  I would have gone there had you not invited me along."

Vin laughed.  "Should've expected that." He stood and went into the kitchen, returning with a cup of coffee for each of them.  They sat quietly, enjoying their coffee and the warmth of the fire.

"Why have you furnished the other bedrooms?" Ezra asked quietly.

Vin looked at him, startled by the question.  After a moment, he answered, "I guess I figured I might have all the guys up here some day."  He shrugged.  "Ain't used to having anybody I'd even want to share this place with.  Always been just me."

Ezra nodded.  "I know the feeling.  I, too, have been contemplating adding additional sleeping quarters to my own hideaway."

Vin chuckled.  "We're a real pair, ain't we?"

"Indeed," Ezra said with a grin.  He took a sip of his coffee, then said tentatively, "Perhaps you could... assist me with my renovations after I have regained the use of my hands?" 

"On one condition," Vin said.  "You tell me what's up with...." He gestured to his ears.

Ezra grimaced.  "I was hoping you'd forgotten."

"Not a chance," Vin said, a satisfied expression on his face.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said reluctantly.  He turned to look at the fire, watching the flames dance and spark.   A jolt of pain suddenly raced through his head and he winced, turning away.  He felt a touch on his arm and glanced up at Vin, who had moved to crouch in front of him.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," Ezra replied.  "Just a bit of a headache."

"I'll get some aspirin."  Before Ezra could protest, Vin had disappeared down the hallway toward the bathroom.  He returned quickly and handed Ezra the pills and a glass of water, the look in his eyes telling Ezra it was futile to argue.

Ezra swallowed the pills, then leaned back into the soft couch cushions while Vin sat across from him expectantly.  "It was a long time ago.  I was eight years old and staying with some relatives.  They were cousins of some sort, but I still called them Aunt and Uncle.  I returned home one afternoon to find that my two young cousins and my aunt had been taken hostage in the house."  

Ezra paused to take a sip of his coffee. "My uncle was a police officer and some miscreants whose brother he had arrested apparently decided to exact their revenge upon his family.  I managed to call the police, but they discovered me and threw me in the kitchen with the others.  I acquired my first dislocated shoulder that day."  He swallowed as the images played through his head like a bad movie.  "The two men were somewhat deranged and didn't react well to the presence of the police.  The end result was that they shot my eleven-year-old cousin Jeremy in the head.  I witnessed the whole thing."

"Jesus," Vin commented.  A sight like that was hard enough for an adult to deal with, let alone an eight-year-old child.

"It was horrendous.  My aunt started screaming and didn't stop," Ezra continued.  "The doctors say I passed out from the shock of everything."  He shrugged.  "I awoke in the hospital, completely deaf."  

Vin's eyebrows rose in question.

"It baffled the medical personnel for some time," Ezra said.  "They eventually decided that it was all in my head.  Psychosomatic deafness."

"How long did it last?"

"Eighteen months," Ezra answered succinctly.

Vin sat up and stared at him incredulously.  "Eighteen months?  Are you kidding?"

Ezra shook his head.  

"Damn," Vin marveled.  "Did you learn sign language?"

"Yes," Ezra replied, clumsily 'saying' a few words with his stiff hands.  It was his turn to be surprised when Vin replied in kind.

"There's a couple of deaf kids that go to the Children's Center," Vin explained.  "Figured it would be helpful to learn to talk to them."

"Admirable objective, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said with a smile.

"Did Maude learn to sign, too?"

Ezra snorted.  "'Mother Dear' shipped me off to a special school the moment I was released from the hospital.  She does not deal well with infirmity."

Vin clenched his teeth, furious with the woman.  What kind of mother could abandon her child when he needed her the most?  His own mother was gone, but at least he knew he was loved during his brief time with her.  He shook his head to banish the thoughts, then asked, "You think that's what happened this time?"

Ezra shrugged.  "Dr. Landry didn't see anything alarming when she examined me, so I suppose that it's possible."

"Any idea what might have caused it?"

"I don't know," Ezra replied.  "I don't remember anything but a sudden blast of light and sound."  He looked over at his friend.  "Last time, I remembered nothing of Jeremy's death while I was deaf.  The doctors said that I was blocking it from my mind.  They suspected that I didn't want to hear my aunt's screaming, so I unconsciously removed my sense of hearing."  

"Everything came back later, though?"

"Yes," Ezra replied.  "My memory and hearing returned suddenly one night, after I awoke from a nightmare."

"Damn, Ez," Vin said, shaking his head in wonder.  He hadn't expected anything like this.

"Got more than you bargained for, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra said, an amused smile playing on his lips.

"A little," Vin admitted.  "Didn't think you ever had anything bad like that in your life.  Always figured you had a great time growing up, what with having your Ma around and going to all them fancy schools."

"Those 'fancy schools' were simply another place for my mother to dump me when she no longer had any use for me," Ezra admitted, a trace of bitterness in his voice.  He had grown used to people making such assumptions about his childhood.  Meeting Maude usually only reinforced other's belief that he grew up in the lap of luxury with a loving parent at his side.

"So, you were just gonna wait and hope that your hearing came back?" Vin inquired, sensing a need to change the direction of their discussion.

"Something like that," Ezra replied.

"And just how long do you think you would've been able to hide it?"  

Ezra shrugged sheepishly.  "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"What about now?"

Ezra looked away for a moment, staring out the window.  "I don't know."

"Maybe you should talk to the doctor," Vin suggested when Ezra was once again looking in his direction.  "You have to see her next week anyway."

"Perhaps," Ezra said noncommittally.

"The guys are gonna catch on before too long, you know," Vin added.  "They're pretty sharp."

"I know," Ezra said resignedly.  "I suppose I'll have to tell them."

"Don't worry, I'll try to keep them from going all 'big brother' on you," Vin said, grinning broadly.

Ezra groaned.  "If you are unsuccessful, I may have to escape to my own hidden retreat for a while."

"Just promise me you'll let me know where you are, if you do go anywhere," Vin said seriously.  "I don't want to be worrying about you."

Flushing at the concern he was being shown, Ezra nodded mutely.  

"When you planning on telling them?"

"My doctor's appointment isn't until Wednesday," Ezra said.  "I would rather wait until after I speak with her."

"Sounds good to me," Vin said.  "You want to hang out here until then?  They ain't letting me back in the office for another week anyway."  He rolled his eyes at that.  "Just 'cause of a damn concussion."

"It was a bad one, from what I was told.  And wasn't there something about bruised ribs?"

Vin shrugged.  He figured that as long as he felt fine, he should be able to return to work.

"Well, I won't be seeing the office for at least two weeks," Ezra sighed.  

"At least you can sleep late," Vin said, slapping his shoulder as he stood.  "You hungry?"

Ezra nodded.  "I could eat."

"I packed a few things at home," Vin said before making his way to the kitchen.  

Ezra followed, curious about what kind of lunch Vin would have brought.  He smiled when his friend took out a loaf of bread and a small cooler containing some sandwich fixings.  The bags of potato chips and chocolate cupcakes that followed were not much of a surprise, considering Tanner's well-known penchant for junk food.

"There's a little town about fifteen miles from here," Vin said.  "We can go make a food run after lunch."

Ezra nodded and took the plate Vin handed him and sat down at the small table.  "Do you think they've become exasperated with us yet?"

Vin laughed.  "Oh yeah.  That's why I made sure our cell phones were turned off."

"Mr. Larabee is likely cursing our existence at the moment," Ezra said in an amused voice.

"I'll give him a call later and let him know we're okay," Vin said.  "Otherwise, he might call out the troops to hunt our asses down."

Ezra shuddered dramatically at the image of Larabee swooping down on them, glare on full blast.  "God forbid."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Goddammit!" Chris slammed the phone down and stalked out of his office.

"What's wrong?" JD asked.

"Ez and Vin took off," Chris said in a clipped, angry tone.  "Stole Buck's truck and lit out a an hour or so ago."

JD ducked his head and stifled a snicker.  

"Buck didn't notice them drivin' off in his truck?" Nathan asked doubtfully.

"Says he fell asleep watching television," Chris explained.

Josiah smiled indulgently and shook his head.  "Our young brothers don't care much for confinement."

"Damn fools," Nathan muttered with a sigh.  "Don't have the sense God gave dirt."

"They're not answering any of their phones," Chris said, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

"They'll call eventually," JD said with certainty.  "They always do after they take off like that."

"I want one of you to go by Ezra's, see if they show up there in the next few hours," Chris said.  "I'm going to head over to Vin's."

"Maybe we should just leave them be for now, Chris," Josiah suggested.

"Normally, I'd agree with you," Chris said with a sigh, "but someone purposely bombed that warehouse, and we can't be sure that we – or Ez and Vin in particular – weren't the targets."

"Hadn't thought of that," Nathan said, a worried frown creasing his face.  

"We'd better get after them, then," Josiah said.

The four men set off on their appointed tasks.

* * * * * * * * * *

The town was small and quaint, seemingly untouched by the rampant commercial development that had overtaken similar communities near the mountains.  Here, there were no large ski resorts or nightclubs, and only a few small hotels and bed and breakfast accommodations to cater to tourists.  The majority of businesses in the town were devoted to the hunters, fisherman, and hikers who came to the area to escape the urban grind.  

Vin was apparently well-known and liked by the residents and Ezra found the same warmth and friendship extended to himself, as a friend of Vin's.  His bandages drew questions and sympathy from the older woman who ran the grocery store with her husband, and Ezra, much to his chagrin, found himself the focus of some motherly fussing.

"You take this soup along with you," the woman said to Vin, tucking two large jars into their grocery bags.  "It's good for what ails you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weaver," Vin said.

"And you, young man," she said, wagging her finger at Ezra.  "You make sure you rest and take your medicine.  I raised five sons, so I know how stubborn you boys can be."

"Yes ma'am," Ezra said humbly, his face reddening in embarrassment while Vin chuckled. 

They took their packages to the jeep, where Vin let his chuckle grow to a full out laugh.  

"Shut up, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said, glaring at him.  He didn't need to hear the laughter to know the other man was enjoying his discomfort.

"Hell no," Vin said, grinning at his friend.  "She usually fusses over me when I come out here.  It's nice to see her doing it to someone else for a change."

Ezra rolled his eyes and climbed into the jeep for the ride back to the cabin.  They had spent a couple of hours walking around the town, browsing the small stores.  There were several antique stores that both he and Vin had found interesting.  Most of the contents were more aptly classified as 'junk', but there were a few quality pieces to be found and both men enjoyed poking around the quaint shops.  

The sharpshooter had been surprised that Ezra enjoyed wandering through the cluttered stores.  He didn't think the sophisticated undercover agent would waste his time in such places, preferring the more upscale and modern shopping areas found in the city.  Ezra, however, had explained to him how he had always enjoyed looking at antiques; it was an interest he had developed during his occasional stays with a kindly aunt, who would spend entire weekends seeking out treasures at antique stores and fairs.   

It had been an enjoyable day, but Ezra still found himself easily fatigued and was contemplating a nap before dinner.  He had also used his hands more than he should that day and was starting to hurt.  Vin somehow seemed to sense this and handed Ezra one of his pills before starting the jeep.

Ezra raised an eyebrow at him, holding up the pill curiously.

"Your eyes are getting all squinty," Vin said – at least, that's what Ezra thought he said.

"Squinty?" Ezra queried tentatively.

"Yep," Vin said.  "They always do that when you're hurting."

"Oh," Ezra said.  "I suppose I shall have to work on that."  He popped the pill into his mouth.

Vin sighed, shaking his head.  "Don't have to hide anything from me, Ez."

"Well, I _do_ have a reputation to maintain," Ezra sniffed.  "What kind of undercover agent would I be if I allow myself to be found out so easily?"

Vin groaned, but didn't answer, knowing that he would not come out ahead in any argument with the stubborn southerner.  

Ezra, for his part, leaned back in his seat with a smile.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Larabee," Chris answered his cell phone sharply, frustrated by the lack of success they had had in finding his missing men.

"Hey, cowboy," Vin's lazy drawl sounded over the phone.

"Where the hell are you?" Chris demanded.

"Someplace quiet."

"Tanner, you get your ass back here now!" Chris barked.

"Sorry, pard," Vin said.  "Me an' Ez are doin' just fine.  We don't need no more babysittin'."

"There could be a bomber out there with your name on his list," Chris said, trying to reason with the obstinate Texan.  "You want to risk yours and Ezra's necks?  You'll be safer here, with us to back you up."

"Ain't nobody gonna find us where we're at, Chris," Vin stated firmly.  "Nobody knows about this place and I made sure we weren't followed."

"Dammit, Vin!" Chris shouted, his frustration reaching the boiling point.  "This isn't a game."

"We can take care of ourselves," Vin replied angrily.  "We ain't amateurs and we've been watchin' out for ourselves for a long time.  Don't need nobody hoverin' over us every damn minute like we're a couple of kids or somethin'."

"Vin..."

"We'll be fine," Vin said shortly, then in a softer voice, "Just need some space right now, cowboy.  We'll be back on Wednesday."

"Vin?" Chris said.  But the sharpshooter had hung up.  "Dammit!"  Chris immediately dialed Josiah and filled him in on the conversation.  Between the two of them, they alerted the rest of the team and met up back at the office.  

"What do you want to do?" Josiah asked, watching as Chris paced back and forth across the office.

"There isn't much we can do," Chris said after a long silence.  "We aren't going to find them unless they want to be found."

"Yeah, they're a couple of sneaky bastards," Buck commented.

Nathan snorted. "No kidding." 

"That's what  makes them so good at their jobs," JD said, secretly admiring his two friends for their escape.  

"I wish I knew where they were, at least," Chris said.  "We can't do anything to help them from here if something goes down."

JD opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it quickly, changing his mind about what he was going to say.

"JD?" Josiah said, tilting his head in question at the younger agent.

"I was just gonna say that they'll call us if they get worried about anything."  JD shrugged.  "They ain't stupid."  He had actually intended to say that he could do some computer searches and possibly find where they had gone, but decided that his friends deserved to spend time by themselves, if that was what they wanted.  He certainly didn't want to be the one who sent the mother hen patrol to descend upon them.

**_TBC_**

* * *


	5. Part 5

**Silent Memories **

by Violette

Part 5

* * *

"Have a nice nap?" Vin smiled at the bleary-eyed figure who shuffled into the living room in stocking feet.

"What?" Ezra asked, blinking to clear his sleep-fogged vision.  He knew Vin had spoken to him, but hadn't deciphered the words.

"I asked if you had a nice nap?" Vin repeated.

"Oh," Ezra said.  "Yes, I feel quite refreshed.  That bed is extremely comfortable."

"Good.  Dinner's almost ready."

Ezra nodded, becoming aware of an enticing aroma wafting through room.

"I just put the steaks on the grill," Vin said.  "How do you like yours?"

"Medium rare would be nice," Ezra said.

"That's how I like mine, too," Vin said.  "Why don't you grab some coffee and sit down?  I'll let you know when everything's done."

"Thank you," Ezra said.  He took a seat on the couch and gazed around the room, again appreciating the tasteful furnishings.  It was a warm, comforting place, and he could understand why Vin would come here to relax.  He often sought out his own secret sanctuary after completing a case.  Working undercover took a lot out of him and he found that a few days of quiet and solitude were often just what he needed to decompress.  The others were sometimes upset that he wouldn't spend time with them celebrating after a job was done, but they simply didn't understand.  He did enjoy their company, just not at those particular times.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned his head.

"Soup's on, Ez," Vin said, nodding toward the kitchen.

Ezra stood and followed.  "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Grab that bowl of salad off the counter," Vin said over his shoulder as he pushed open the screen door.

Ezra did as requested, placing the bowl on the table before taking a seat.  

Vin returned from the deck bearing two plates, each with a steak and a foil-wrapped potato on them.  He set them on the table and dropped into a chair, watching Ezra expectantly.

Peeling apart the foil, Ezra looked at the contents, sniffing at them appreciatively.  "What did you add to these potatoes?  They smell wonderful."

"Parmesan cheese and a little butter," Vin said.  "My friend Ray used to cook 'em like that when we'd come up here."

"I'll have to try this sometime," Ezra said, taking a bite.  "It's quite good."

"I figured we'd save Mrs. Weaver's chicken soup for tomorrow, maybe have it for lunch."

"Yes, it would be rude not to partake of her kind offering," Ezra said.

"Yep," Vin said, digging into his steak with abandon.  "It's usually real good anyway."

They ate in comfortable silence, Vin finishing before Ezra, who was still slowly making his way through his steak.  Vin had considered offering to cut it for him, but didn't think it would be well-received.  Ezra was managing, albeit slowly and clumsily.  He smiled and cleared his plate from the table, returning with a chocolate cake.

"You bake, too?" Ezra said, an amused light in his eyes.

Vin shrugged.  "I like chocolate cake.  Figured I ought to learn how to make it so I can have it when I want."

"Very practical," Ezra said.

"You cook much?" 

"Sometimes," Ezra replied after a moment.  "It is nice to enjoy a decent meal at home occasionally, and I find it relaxing to putter about the kitchen."

Vin nodded and cut huge slices of cake for himself and Ezra.  "I called Chris, by the way."

"Oh?  And how did our fearless leader react to our departure?"

Vin snorted.  "How do you think?"

"Ah, the usual, I take it?"

"Well, he was a little more pissed this time," Vin amended.  "He's worried that the bomber might have been after us."

"You assured him we'd be safe here, did you not?"

"Yep," Vin replied.  "Told him we'd be back on Wednesday."

"Good," Ezra said, pulling his plate of chocolate cake toward him.  "I am enjoying our stay here, thus far, and I am loath to return any sooner than we had planned."

"You know they're gonna be all over our asses when we go back," Vin warned.

"Yes, but it's worth it."

Vin grinned and saluted him with his iced tea.  "Damn straight."

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra looked at the hospital entrance and sighed.  He really didn't want to go in there, but he had promised Vin that he would 'come clean' to Dr. Landry about the status of his hearing.  After all that the other man had done for him, he couldn't bring himself to go back on his word.  He sighed and started toward the door, aware of Vin watching him from the jeep.

The rest of their time at the cabin had been as enjoyable as the first day.  Ezra hadn't been up to participating in any strenuous activities and had spent most of his time reading, watching movies, or going on easy walks in the woods.  He had gone fishing one morning, at Vin's insistence, but had spent his time enjoying the sunshine and watching the sharpshooter catch their dinner, since holding a fishing pole was still too hard on his hands.  Fall was going to be over soon, as evidenced by the colder evening temperatures, and it had been nice to simply enjoy the outdoors while the weather accommodated.

Vin had proven to be surprisingly good company, watching out for him without being intrusive and allowing him to decide for himself how much he was capable of doing.  It was refreshing, after having been under the thumb of his more dictatorial associates.  He grimaced, knowing that his freedom had truly come to an end, especially once he informed his teammates of his infirmity.

* * * * * * * * * *

"So how are you feeling, Mr. Standish?" Dr. Landry said as she strode through the door.

"Much better, thank you," Ezra replied, shifting uncomfortably on the examination table as she started her examination.  When she picked up the otoscope, he tensed slightly, but waited until she was finished before speaking.  "How does it look?"

"Everything seems normal," she said with a smile.  "Has the ringing subsided?"

"Well," Ezra began hesitantly.  "There never truly was any ringing."  

"Oh?" She gave him a puzzled look, waiting for him to continue.

"Actually..." He paused, then continued with a sigh.  "Actually, I seem to have lost my hearing entirely."

"Excuse me?"  She frowned at him, confused by this revelation, since she was obviously having a conversation with the man.  

"I have not been able to hear a thing since after the explosion," Ezra stated.  She still seemed confused.  He smiled, realizing the reason for it. "I am able to read lips."

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" she asked, clearly not happy with him.

"I hoped that it would come back on its own," he said sheepishly. 

At that, she favored him with a glare that would have done Chris Larabee proud.  Reaching for the scope again, she proceeded to examine his ears thoroughly.  When she was done, she studied him intently, still frowning.  "I can't see anything wrong.  I'm going to have to set up a few more tests."

Ezra sighed again and nodded.  He didn't think the additional tests would reveal anything, but he couldn't bring himself to ignore that faint tendril of hope that maybe, this time, there would be an explanation that didn't involve his mind going haywire.

* * * * * * * * * *

Vin walked into the office, smiling at the sight of his teammates.  "Hey, guys."

"Vin!  You're back!"  JD jumped up to greet him with his usual boundless enthusiasm.  "Where's Ezra?"

"Left him at the hospital," Vin said, making his way to his desk.  "He had his appointment today."

"How is he doing?" Nathan asked.

"He's doin' fine," Vin said as he leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk.

"What about you?" Josiah queried.  "How are you doing?"

"I'm all right," Vin said, grinning at the large agent.  "Just needed some peace an' quiet."

"You sayin' we're noisy?" Buck said, sounding slightly miffed.

Vin gave a lazy shrug.  "Nah.  Just didn't need y'all natterin' at us all week."

JD laughed, sympathizing with the sentiment.  The three older agents looked at one another, trying to decide if they should be offended.

"Where's Chris?" Vin asked.

"With Travis," Nathan responded.  "He's trying to get him to let us investigate the bombing some more."

"Travis wants us to start on a new case," Buck added.

"Damn," Vin said.  "If there is someone out to get us, I'd rather be out huntin' 'em down."

"So would we, brother," Josiah agreed.

Chris strode into the office then, stopping short when he spotted Vin sitting at his desk.  He nodded at the sharpshooter then turned to the rest of his men.  "We have until Ezra's back at work to track down the bomber.  After that, we have to start a new case."  

"Better than nothin', I guess," JD said with a sigh.

"We'll just have to make sure we get the bastards," Buck agreed.

Chris looked around and frowned.  "Where's Ezra?"

"At the doctor's," JD said.

Chris shot another glance at Vin, who gave him an impertinent smile.  "He all right?"

"Yep," Vin replied.  "He's gonna come by here after he's done."

"Good," Nathan said.  

Vin rolled his eyes, knowing that Nathan wanted to check Ezra out for himself, and judging by the looks the medic was sending in his direction, he was in for the same treatment himself.  He sighed, wishing he and Ezra had been able to stay at his cabin a while longer.  

Ezra's reaction to his hideaway had stunned him.  He hadn't expected the sophisticated man to like his humble cabin, but there had been no mistaking the honest appreciation in the southerner's eyes as he studied the place.  The other man had truly enjoyed his stay and was looking much more relaxed than he had ever been during any of his forced stays at Chris's ranch.  Vin had recognized in Ezra the same need for independence that he himself harbored and knew that the undercover agent would appreciate being on his own, away from the others, even if he hadn't liked where they were spending that time.  Vin smiled, wondering what Ezra's own 'retreat' looked like.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Four hours later, he had been x-rayed, CAT-scanned, given an MRI, and subjected to a full hearing test.  Ezra sat wearily in the examination room, waiting for the verdict.  He didn't have long to wait, as Dr. Landry entered the room after only a few minutes.  He watched her guardedly, taking note of her body language, then sighed.  It wasn't going to be good news.

"Well, Mr. Standish," she began.  "It appears that you have stumped the experts.  They cannot find anything wrong with you."

"I was afraid of that," Ezra said quietly.

She stared at him, frowning at the odd tone of his voice.  "Do you have something else to add?"

Reluctantly, he told her about the incident that had occurred when he was eight and the subsequent loss of hearing he had suffered.

"And you didn't think it was important to inform me of this earlier?" 

Ezra looked at her with a guilty expression.  "I had hoped there was another reason."

Dr. Landry's expression softened as she looked at her patient.  It was understandable that he didn't want the diagnosis to involve a psychological problem.  He, like many men in his profession, prided himself on his strength and his emotional stability.  A psychosomatic illness implied weakness or failure to men like him, and Ezra was not one who liked having such 'flaws' discovered.  

She sighed, remembering a comment she had overheard him making to one of his friends.  "Appearances are everything, you know," he had said.  With an attitude like that, it was no wonder he was finding this situation so difficult.  She was going to have to tread carefully with him.

"You do want to hear again, don't you?" she asked.

"Of course," he answered indignantly.

"Well, we can't fix it if we don't know what's broke," she said in a no-nonsense manner, placing her hands on her hips and regarding him sternly.

Ezra gaped at her, shocked at the her attitude.  "But..."

"No buts," she interrupted him, holding her hand up to halt his protests.  "Now that we have a possible cause for your problem, we can take steps to eradicate it.  Are you ready to do that?"

Nodding slowly, Ezra said, "Yes, Doctor."

"Good."  She made some notes on her clipboard.  "I'm going to set up an appointment for you with one of our staff psychiatrists... unless you have one of your own that you'd prefer?"

Ezra shook his head.  He hadn't spoken to a psychiatrist in years – not counting official department visits after shootings and such.

"I think you'll like Dr. Walters," Dr. Landry continued.  "He's had some experience with psychosomatic events."  She smiled at him.  "And he's not a pompous ass, either."

Ezra flushed slightly, remembering how he had once described some of his former doctors to her.  "When is my first appointment?"

"Friday," she answered.  "Until then, I want you to keep taking care of those hands and getting plenty of rest."

"I'll do that," Ezra promised.

"If you don't, I'll make sure Mr. Larabee and Mr. Jackson hear about it."

"With that incentive, how could I not?" Ezra said sarcastically. 

"All right, then," she said, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.  "I think we're finished here.  You can go home now."

"Thank you, Doctor," Ezra said sincerely.  "I appreciate your patience."

Dr. Landry smiled as she left the room, biting back a comment about how he was lucky she did have so much patience.

* * * * * * * * * *

With slow, plodding steps, Ezra reluctantly made his way down the hallway toward his team's office.  He wasn't looking forward to facing his boss after what he and Vin had done.  Plus, there was still the matter of his deafness and the fact that he had promised Vin to reveal it to the rest of his teammates.  Ezra sighed.  He _really_ didn't want to go in there.  But a promise was a promise.

Squaring his shoulders, Ezra pushed through the doors, bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation.  His eyes widened, though, at the sight of the empty office.  Frowning, he checked Chris's office, the break room, and the conference room before determining that the office was truly vacant.  He spotted a blue paper sitting in the middle of his desk and picked it up awkwardly.  With a chuckle, he dropped the note and left the office to meet his teammates at the Saloon.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was an odd feeling, stepping into the Saloon and not being hit by a wave of sound.  Normally, there was music, laughing, and boisterous conversation, but today, there was nothing.  The revelry was still going on, but he couldn't hear a bit of it.  Ezra sighed.  He didn't want to be here, but he knew the others were expecting him and would probably be on his doorstep within an hour if he didn't show up.  

The team was seated at their usual table and hadn't yet noticed him, so Ezra slipped inside unobtrusively, using the crowd as cover while he made his way to the bar.  His pain medication had worn off hours earlier and he didn't think one drink would hurt him.  Besides, he wanted a bit of liquid fortitude to prepare him for the forthcoming conversation.

Ezra had just downed his second shot when he felt a tap on his arm.  He turned to see Vin eyeing him with concern.  "Mr. Tanner," he greeted the other man.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," Ezra said dismissively.  "I merely wanted a few minutes to collect myself before venturing into the lion's den."

Vin lifted an eyebrow sarcastically and pointed to the empty glass.

"A bit of artificial nerve enhancement," Ezra said with a faint smile.

"Better not let Nate see you drinking that," Vin said.  "Come on before the guys see you over here." 

Ezra nodded and followed the Texan back to the table with the rest of their teammates.  

"Gentlemen," Ezra said as he slid into his usual seat.

"Ezra," Chris said, unsmiling as he regarded his agent.

Vin nudged Ezra and rapidly signed something under the cover of the table.

Ezra chuckled.  Vin had told him to be glad he wouldn't have to hear the yelling Chris would probably be doing soon. "You are correct, Mr. Tanner."

JD looked between them, confused.  "Huh?"

"That was a damn fool stunt you pulled," Chris admonished.  "Both of you." He turned his glare on Vin as well.

"Mr. Larabee," Ezra began.  "If you and your compatriots would treat us as the adults we are, Mr. Tanner and myself would not be forced to seek escape from your presence so frequently."  Ezra knew he had touched a nerve when he saw Chris's jaw clench and a fire begin to rise in his eyes.

"If you had any sense, we wouldn't have to treat you like kids," Nathan growled.

"Yeah," Buck added.  "You boys just don't take care of yourselves, so we figure we have to do it for you."

Both Vin and Ezra bristled at the commentary and glared at the offenders.

"You must admit, brothers," Josiah said gently.  "You don't always do what you should.  We only want to help."

Ezra sighed and shook his head.  "I cannot do this, Mr. Tanner.  Not now."

Vin was inclined to agree, but decided they might as well go for broke.  "Nah, you gotta tell them, Ez.  Hell, they already think we're idiots.  This ain't gonna change that any."

"What are you talking about?" JD asked, after Ezra had returned his attention to them.

Ezra sighed and looked around at the assembled group.  "Mr. Tanner is simply reminding me that the news that I am about to impart will not change the opinions you have with regards to our competence and ability to care for ourselves."

"What news?" Chris said with a frown.

Ezra looked at Vin, who nodded at him encouragingly.  Pasting a smile on his face, Ezra announced, "Gentlemen, I was not completely forthcoming with regards to the extent of my condition."

"What?!" Nathan said, sitting up sharply.  "What's wrong?"

Ezra hesitated for a moment, then stated calmly, "Since the explosion, I have been completely unable to hear."

Silence reigned at the table while his words registered.

"What are you talking about?" JD asked.  "You're hearing us just fine."

"I can read lips, Mr. Dunne," Ezra explained.  "Quite well, in fact."

"Hell, and I thought you were talking quieter than usual because your throat hurt from the smoke," Buck said with a shake of his head.__

"You've been deaf since the explosion?" Nathan asked incredulously, trying in vain to reign in his exasperation.  "And you didn't think it was important to tell us?!"

"No, I did not," Ezra explained calmly.  "I knew what your reactions would be and had no desire to subject myself to any more restrictions on my freedom."

"Is it permanent?" JD gripped Ezra's arm, worry plain on his face.

Ezra pondered that for a moment.  "It's possible... but unlikely."  The others started talking all at once and Ezra finally gave up trying to understand any of them.  He held up his hand.  "Please, one at a time.  I can't understand all of you at once."

Nathan seemed to be elected, so he asked, "What does your doctor have to say?"

"In short... it's a trauma-induced psychosomatic condition."  He smiled ruefully as his teammates, with the exception of Vin, gaped at him in shock.

"How did that happen?" Buck finally asked.

Ezra shrugged.  "I don't know.  I have most likely blocked the cause from my mind, along with my sense of hearing."

"Can they do anything for it?" JD asked.

"I have an appointment with a psychiatrist on Friday," Ezra said quietly, looking away from them.  He didn't want to see the pity or disappointment in their eyes.

Vin touched his arm and said to him, "It's not your fault."

"There's a reason they use the term 'hysterical' to describe such conditions," Ezra said quietly. "My mind was simply too weak to cope and decided to shut down."

Gentle fingers touched his chin, startling him, and Ezra found himself looking his boss in the eye.  "You aren't weak, Ezra, and I don't want to hear you talk like that again, you hear."

Ezra simply nodded in reply, taken aback by the man's response.  Of all of them, he would have expected Larabee to be most in agreement with his opinion.  

Vin nudged him and signed, "It will be fine."

Ezra replied in kind with, "I hope you're right."  When he turned back to the group, he noticed JD looking at him curiously.  "What is it, Mr. Dunne?"

"You know sign language, too?" 

"Yes," Ezra nodded.  "I learned it a long time ago."

Josiah stared at him thoughtfully, then touched his arm to get his attention.  "Why did you learn it?"

Ezra flushed and looked down at the table, staring at the wet rings left by the beer mugs as he considered how to respond.  Finally, he decided to give them an abbreviated explanation.  Lifting his head, he said evenly, "I experienced a similar episode when I was a child."

Another stunned silence graced the table and Ezra shifted uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny.

"You were deaf then, too?" Nathan queried, wanting clarification.

"Yes."

"For how long?" Nathan demanded.

Ezra sighed, feeling a headache beginning to develop.  

Vin squeezed his shoulder in support and answered for him, "Eighteen months."

Ezra gave them a wan smile as they sat back in their chairs, at a loss for words.  He should have anticipated such a thorough interrogation, especially from Nathan.

"Jesus," Buck said, rubbing his moustache distractedly.

"Guess that explains why you read lips so good, huh, Ez?" JD said, forcing a weak smile.

"Indeed," Ezra replied.  "I did have a great deal of practice."

"How old were you, son?" Josiah inquired kindly.

"Eight."

"Damn," Buck said, looking impressed.  "And you didn't forget any of it?"

Ezra chuckled lightly at that.  "My mother found it to be a useful skill, even after I had regained my hearing.  I was often able to provide her with advance warning of any undue interest being taken in her activities by security personnel in various places where she plied her trade.  Who would suspect a young child of eavesdropping from across the room?"  

Vin gave a disgusted snort that went unnoticed by Ezra, but not by the others. Chris met the sharpshooter's eyes, knowing that there was probably more to the story, but decided that this was not a good time to press for more details.

Ezra shrugged and continued.  "It did keep me in practice, though, and I have used it frequently to my advantage in my undercover work."  A smirk crossed his face.  "It can be quite useful to know when your target is arranging your demise with his minions."

"I bet," Buck said with a broad grin.

Inez interrupted at that moment, carrying a tray loaded with food.  "Your orders are ready, señors."

Ezra's stomach growled in response to the spicy aroma that filled the air, and he was regretting that he hadn't placed his own order before joining his companions at the table.  As he was about to speak, Inez placed a plate in front of him.  He glanced up at her in surprise. 

"I made your favorite, Señor Standish," she said with a smile.  

Sniffing appreciatively at the plate of enchiladas, Ezra smiled at her and said, "Thank you, Ms. Recillos.  I'm sure it will be as wonderful as usual."

"You let me know if you need anything else," Inez said with a smile, patting his arm gently.

"Hey, Inez," Buck called.  "I could use some tabasco sauce."

"Go get it yourself, Buck," Inez said, tossing her head as she walked away.

"Guess she told you," JD snickered.

"Hmph!" Buck sniffed, trying to ignore the laughter at his expense.

**_TBC_**

* * *


	6. Part 6

**Silent Memories **

by Violette

Part 6

* * *

  


The evening passed quickly and fatigue began to catch up with Ezra.  He had started to have increasing difficulty concentrating on the conversations around him and decided that it was probably time to go home and crawl into his nice soft bed.  Stifling a yawn, he announced, "As much as I am enjoying this gathering, it is time for me to take my leave."  He stood slowly.  "I shall see you all soon."

Buck reached out and grabbed his arm as he attempted to turn away.  "Where do you think you're going?"

"I am going home, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra replied tightly.

"I don't think that's a good idea, pard," Buck said.

"You'll be much better off at the ranch where we can look out for you," Nathan said resolutely.

"No," Ezra said.  "I am going home.  I am quite capable of taking care of myself."  He looked away purposefully, ignoring the arguing going on behind him while he tried to pull his arm from Buck's grasp.

"Guys," Vin interjected.  "Leave him be.  He ain't gonna go to the ranch, so you better just forget about it."

"He's deaf, in case you've forgotten," Nathan said.  "It ain't safe for him to be alone right now."

Ezra turned in time to see Nathan's comment and retorted icily, "I am not a child, Mr. Jackson, and I will not be dictated to by you or anyone else.  I.  Am.  Going.  Home!"  He wrenched his arm away from Buck and stalked away.

"You guys are somethin' else," Vin said disgustedly.  "An' you wonder why we took off in the first place."

"Nate's got a point, Vin," Chris intoned softly.  "It ain't safe with that bomber running loose."

"He won't be able to hear any danger coming, brother," Josiah added.

"You think he's too dumb to figure that out?" Vin asked.  "I thought you had learned by now that orderin' Ez around ain't gonna get you anywhere.  You gotta be more subtle."

"Yeah," JD piped in.  "You guys are about a subtle as a herd of stampeding wildebeest."

Vin chuckled at the analogy.  "You've been hanging out with Buck too long, JD."

"So what do you propose?" Josiah inquired.

"I was gonna ask to stay at his place with him, but he's got his back up now," Vin said, shaking his head.  "Don't know if he'll go for it."

"Let us know," Chris said.  "We'll find another way to keep an eye on him if you don't get anywhere."

Vin nodded and headed for the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra stomped out the door, incensed by his associates' behavior.  The nerve of them, trying to order him around like some errant child.  Muttering angrily to himself, he walked around to the parking lot, searching for his car.  With a start, he remembered that he had taken a cab from the hospital, and had walked the short distance from the federal building to the Saloon.  His shoulders slumped in defeat as he turned around and headed for the pay phone by the door.  

Someone suddenly grabbed him and jerked him to the side.  Furious, he turned to vent his anger on the person, only to find Vin staring at him with concern.

"What?" Ezra inquired.

"You almost got run over," Vin said, pointing at the truck that was just leaving the parking lot.

Embarrassed and frustrated, Ezra pulled away from him and continued toward the pay phone.  He picked it up and was about to dial, when he realized the futility of the act.  He wouldn't be able to hear the person on the other end.  With a defeated sigh, he slumped against the wall and stared up at the night sky.  He couldn't even make his indignant exit without assistance.

"Ez?" Vin asked, tugging on the southerner's sleeve to get his attention.  "Talk to me, pard."

Ezra looked at him long enough to make out what he said, then stared down at the sidewalk.  "What would you like me to say?"

Vin sighed as he saw the beaten look on his friend's face, squeezing his shoulder, both as a show of support and as a means of getting his attention.  "There's nothing wrong with accepting a little help now and then."

"I don't like being dependent on others, Mr. Tanner.  It has not proven to be a beneficial situation for me in the past."  He gave Vin an earnest look.  "I also do not wish to be a burden upon anyone."

"I know how you feel," Vin said.  "I ain't had the best of luck with that either."

"I know they mean well, but..." Ezra trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

"Come on," Vin said.  "Let's get you home."

"Thank you," Ezra said quietly, allowing Vin to usher him to his battered jeep.

* * * * * * * * * *

The drive to Ezra's townhouse was short, and neither man spoke, each lost in his own thoughts.  Upon arrival, Vin took Ezra's overnight bag out of the jeep and started for the stairs.  Smiling at the other man's thoughtfulness, Ezra followed.  Inside, he took the bag from Vin and headed straight for his bedroom, returning to the living room a few minutes later.

Vin stood near the kitchen, looking uncomfortable, and Ezra sighed, deducing the reason for the man's uneasiness.  "Would you like to stay here tonight, Mr. Tanner?"

Vin flushed and nodded sheepishly, knowing that he had been found out.

Ezra chuckled and waved his hand dismissively.  "I am not offended by your concern.  You are a victim of our compatriot's overprotective proclivities as often as I am, and I know you are only looking out for my welfare.  I would much rather receive your unobtrusive attention than that of our sanctimonious and overbearing associates."

Vin laughed at the description of their friends.  "You got 'em pegged, all right, Ez."  He gestured toward the door.  "I'm gonna get my stuff."  

As Vin pulled his bag out of the jeep, he felt an odd prickling sensation in the back of his neck.  He snapped his head up, scanning the area with a practiced eye.  Nothing caught his attention, but the feeling of danger did not subside.  Giving a last, wary look around, he turned back toward the building, his senses attuned to everything around him and his muscles tensed and ready for action.  He made it to the door without incident and relaxed fractionally, deciding that it was probably just his imagination.  But he was still bothered by the feeling that someone had been out there, watching him – someone who might not have his best interests at heart.

* * * * * * * * * *

"That went well," Buck said in a voice heavy with sarcasm as Vin disappeared through the door.

"Those two are hell on my blood pressure," Nathan said with a sigh.

"Should've just left 'em alone," JD commented knowingly.

"What, so they can get themselves killed?" Buck retorted, rolling his eyes.

JD shook his head.  "Pushin' them didn't get you anywhere, did it?  Sometimes you just have to trust them to take care of themselves."

Chris eyed their youngest curiously.  His argument had merit, though it was issued a bit more vehemently than he had expected.  He sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly, wondering how he could protect his two troublesome agents without inciting further rebellion against his efforts.

"Perhaps we should use a lighter hand when dealing with our obstinate brothers," Josiah suggested.  "They are both too proud to easily accept anything they might consider 'mollycoddling.'"

"All we're trying to do is keep 'em safe," Nathan argued.  He hated feeling helpless when his friends were in danger.

"Josiah's right," Chris said.  "We're just going to make it worse if we push them too hard.  We need to go easy and make sure we're around if they need us."

"Easier said than done, pard," Buck warned.  "Those two are real good at disappearing."

"Don't I know it," Chris said with a grimace.

"So, where do we start?" Nathan inquired.

Chris swirled what was left of his ice cubes in the bottom of his glass.  "I don't want either of them left alone for too long.  They'll ditch us if they think we're 'hovering' again, so we need to keep an eye on them... discreetly.  There's no way to tell if our bomber is going to try again."

"I'll take the first shift," Buck offered, wanting to feel useful.

"Good," Chris agreed.  "The rest of you arrange a schedule.  If Vin sticks with Ez, you don't have to be on constant watch... just check on them every now and then.  Those two were in the center of the action at the warehouse, so they're more likely than the rest of us to be targets."

"Trouble magnets," Buck muttered with a sigh as he stood to leave.

Chris nodded.  Unfortunately, Buck was correct in his observation.  Ezra and Vin – and to a lesser extent, JD – seemed to attract all manner of trouble, giving the rest of them more gray hairs than they cared to admit.  He hoped it would not be the case this time, but he didn't dare put too much faith in that possibility; he had been proven wrong too many times in the past.

* * * * * * * * * *

Looking up from the bicycle he was fixing, Vin had to smile at the sight of Ezra sitting on the floor surrounded by children, who were hanging on his every word as he read to them.  Even little Camilla, the deaf child who lived down the block, was enthralled, since Ezra was signing as he read, including the little girl in the storytelling.  It always amazed Vin that children seemed to gravitate toward his friend.  The man might be standoffish when dealing with most people, but he treated children with respect and gave them the kind of attention they rarely received from adults.

Vin chuckled, and returned to his task of replacing the broken chain on the bicycle.  He had suggested that they spend the day at the children's center after Ezra had declared his boredom at facing a day of sitting around his apartment with nothing to do.  From the smile on the man's face, it had been a good suggestion.  

Tossing a glance out the window, Vin smirked at the sight of Nathan's car parked across the street.  He had spotted Buck following them that morning when they had left Ezra's apartment.  They must have changed shift while they were inside the Center.  Ezra hadn't said anything, but Vin would have been surprised if the observant undercover agent hadn't noticed the tail.  He had figured that Chris and the others would pull something like this, though he had expected them to be more obvious in their surveillance.  He didn't mind the covert observation, as long as they kept it subtle and didn't revert to their more intrusive tactics.

The day passed quickly and Vin wondered if he could convince Ezra to let him stay over again.  It wasn't really necessary, since the others would probably be keeping watch, but he couldn't shake the feeling of danger he had experienced the previous evening.  He couldn't explain it, but something felt 'off' and he figured he would sleep better knowing that his friend was safe.

Joining Ezra at the door, Vin waved at the last of the children as they rushed home to dinner.  

"Did you finish your repairs, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra asked, gesturing toward the bicycle.

"Yep," Vin answered.  "Good as new."

"Young Daniel will be most pleased," Ezra commented, referring to the owner of the bike, a boy who lived in the building next to Vin's.

"The kids sure liked your stories," Vin said.

"Most children find the adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn quite entertaining," Ezra replied with a smile.  "I always did."

"Me too," Vin said.  "One of the nicer foster moms I had read it to me once."

Ezra smiled.  "I always envied their freedom and the joy they seemed to get from such simple things."

Vin glanced sideways at his friend, noting the wistful expression on his face.  He sensed there was a lot unhappiness in Ezra's childhood, much like his own, despite the fanciful tales Maude spun whenever she was in town.  With the bits of information that Ezra had let slip during the past week, Vin was starting to realize just how untrue those stories were.  


"You up for dinner?" Vin said, nudging Ezra to get his attention.

"I could do with some sustenance," Ezra admitted. 

"Come on, then," Vin said, grabbing him by the sleeve.  "I know a great place."

* * * * * * * * * *

"Jackson," Nathan said into his cell phone.

"Nate, it's Josiah.  You want me to take over?"

"Not yet," Nathan replied.  "I figure I'll wait and see if Vin's gonna hang out at Ez's place again tonight.  That way you won't have to go out there for nothing."

"Sounds like a plan," Josiah said.  "Where are you now?"

"They're having dinner in some dive near Vin's place."

"And Ezra went along willingly?" Josiah said incredulously.

"Looked that way," Nathan answered with a chuckle.  "Maybe the place is better than it looks."  

"Must be," Josiah said with a laugh.  "Give me a call when you're ready for me to take over."

Nathan switched off the phone and leaned back into his seat, waiting for Vin and Ezra to finish their dinner.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra shared a look with Vin as they came out of the small, nondescript diner.  Both men tried not to smile when they spotted Nathan's car across the street.  

"They are persistent, aren't they?" Ezra said with a grin as he climbed into the jeep and fastened his seatbelt.

"Yeah," Vin agreed, shaking his head in exasperation.  "Maybe we should have brought him some take out?"

Ezra laughed, picturing Nathan's embarrassed expression if they had done that.  "It would have been quite a sight."

Vin drove back to Ezra's townhouse and parked in front, grinning when he spotted Nathan pulling into the curb down the block.

"Are you staying over again tonight?" Ezra asked as he climbed out of the jeep.

Vin shrugged.  "Only if you want me to."

"Well," Ezra said with a wry smile.  "I suppose it would be less taxing on our compatriots."

"You sure?" Vin asked earnestly, walking around the jeep to stand in front of his friend.  "I don't want to get in your way."

"Not to worry, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said.  "I hardly notice your presence."

"Gee, thanks," Vin said sarcastically, starting for the stairs.  "You coming?"

Ezra laughed and gestured toward the building.  "After you."  

Vin had already reached the stairs to the outer doorway when he heard the screeching tires.  He whirled around, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of the setting sun reflecting off the barrel of a gun.  Ezra was looking down, completely unaware of the threat.  "Ezra!" Vin yelled, diving toward his friend.

Ezra looked up in time to see Vin rushing toward him, a grimly determined look on his face.  "What...?"  His words were abruptly cut off when the sharpshooter tackled him to the sidewalk, knocking his head against the pavement.  He lay there stunned, Vin's body pinning him to the ground.  "Vin!" he called breathlessly, trying vainly to push the weight off of his chest.

A sudden flurry of activity erupted around him and the weight was blessedly removed.  Ezra took a deep breath and looked up into Nathan's worried face.  The dark-skinned man's lips were moving, but Ezra's head was still too muddled to make out what he was saying.  

"Mr. Jackson, please. Slow down." Nathan's hands gripped his face and Ezra watched carefully as the dark-skinned man mouthed the words, "Are you all right?"

"I am fine," Ezra replied.  "Just a bit startled.  What happened?"  He sat up slowly and looked around, frowning when he noticed the wet stickiness covering his clothing.  Slowly, he touched the front of his shirt, staring mesmerized at the blood that glistened on his fingertips.  "Vin?" He looked up again fearfully.

Vin lay beside him on his back, the front of his shirt soaked with blood.  Nathan was pressing on his chest with one hand, while speaking frantically into his cell phone with the other.  Ezra didn't know how long he sat there, but it seemed like only a few seconds later that he was surrounded by paramedics.  Dazed, he watched as Vin was loaded into the ambulance, barely noticing as he was led into Josiah's ancient Suburban.

Before he knew it, Ezra found himself sitting in the familiar waiting room of Denver Memorial Hospital.  Josiah sat beside him, eyes closed and lips moving in prayer.  Nathan had ridden into the hospital in the ambulance with Vin, and the others had not yet appeared.  That situation changed a few minutes later when the door burst open and Buck, JD, and Chris stormed into the room.  Chris went straight to the nurse's station, while JD and Buck joined them in their corner of the waiting room.

"What happened?" Buck asked anxiously.

Ezra shook his head slowly, realizing for the first time that he had no idea what had occurred.  

"Josiah?" Buck turned to the older man in frustration.

Ezra looked to Josiah as well, needing to know what had happened.

"Someone took a shot at Vin and Ezra," Josiah explained.  "Vin got hit in the chest; he's in surgery now."

Ezra sucked in a harsh breath, overwhelmed by that brief statement.  Vin had been hurt while pushing him to safety... from a danger to which he had been completely oblivious.  His head dropped into his hands as the guilt washed over him.  If only he had noticed the threat, he might have been able to get himself to safety, sparing Vin from that responsibility.

His feelings of guilt increased when he looked up to see Chris walking toward them, anger, worry, and frustration evident on his face.  Ezra forced himself not to turn away from the glare being sent in his direction.

"What's the word?" Buck asked.

"He's still in surgery," Chris replied, his eyes not leaving Ezra's. "She said we can go upstairs to the surgical waiting room." Without waiting for an answer, Chris turned and strode away.

Ezra stood and followed the rest of his teammates, ignoring the wave of dizziness that assaulted him at the movement.  His head was pounding from its impact with the pavement earlier that evening, but Ezra hardly noticed, consumed by the guilt he was feeling.  Chris had every right to blame him for this.  If only he had agreed to go to the ranch as they had asked....  

Nathan greeted them as they entered the small waiting room.

"Any news?" Josiah asked.

"Not yet," Nathan replied.  "He took two bullets, one in his chest, and the other in his shoulder.  Both of 'em were still in there, so it may take a while to get them out."

The rest of the men nodded somberly, sharing the same grim and concerned expressions as they took seats in the room.  Chris remained standing, pacing back and forth near the doorway and casting occasional glances at his watch.  Ezra sighed quietly and took a seat in the far corner of the small waiting room, wanting to remain as unobtrusive as possible.  His associates were probably upset with him and he didn't want to make things any worse.  

Staring at the torn and dirty bandages on his hands, Ezra searched his memory, looking for any clues as to who might have been after him.  He was fairly certain that he was the target, since Vin had already been outside the warehouse when the explosions were triggered during the bust.  Tonight's incident only reinforced that belief.  Vin had not been in the line of the gunfire until he had stepped into it in order to push Ezra out of the way.  

Ezra shuddered as the memory flashed before him, playing in slow motion like a tragic scene from a movie.  It always amazed him how quickly a situation could turn bad.  He had seen it happen before: the bust that suddenly went south; the friendly arms dealer who turned into a stone-cold killer; the friend who became an enemy without warning.  It was something to be expected in this business, simply another part of the job.  But this time was different.  This time, he had been useless, unable to even defend himself, leaving his teammate – his _friend_ – to shoulder that burden.

Picking at his bloodstained shirt, Ezra swallowed against the tidal wave of self-reproach that threatened to overwhelm him.  How could he have been so selfish?  He knew he was not at his best, but he had still allowed his stubborn pride to place his friend in mortal danger.  He was a sad excuse for a federal agent, and an even worse friend.  The blood on his shirt was evidence enough of that.  He stared morosely at the damp maroon stain.  Vin's blood.  Ezra felt the bile rise in his throat and bolted from his seat.  

The rest of the men stared at the retreating figure in confusion.

"Where's he going?" Buck asked, a frown creasing the usually-jovial man's face.

JD stepped into the doorway through which Ezra had disappeared and spotted the undercover agent entering the rest room down the hall.  He turned back to his friends.  "He's going into the bathroom.  I'll go check on him."  

Buck sighed.  "What a mess."

"No kidding," Nathan agreed.  "I still can't believe how fast it all went down.  One minute they're standing there, the next, they're on the ground and there's blood everywhere."

"Did you get anything on the shooters?" Chris asked, breaking his silence for the first time since entering the waiting area.

"No, it happened too fast, and I was too far away to get a license number," Nathan said dispiritedly.  "I gave a description of the car to the DPD guys, but I don't think it'll help much.  It was a pretty ordinary-lookin' sedan."

"You did your best, Nathan," Josiah said soothingly.  "Vin and Ezra were the first priority."

"I know," Nathan said with a sigh.  "But what if they come back to try again?"

"Hell, if Ez had just done like we asked, maybe we could have caught these bastards," Buck said heatedly.  "At least we might have been closer when this shit went down, instead of having' to tail him and Vin like a couple of suspects."

"Man's too stubborn for his own good," Nathan said.

"Hindsight is twenty-twenty," Josiah said calmly.  "It won't change anything to think about what might have happened, or what we might have been able to do to prevent it.  All we can do is deal with it and try to keep it from happening again."

"I know," Buck admitted.  "But I'm still gonna make damn sure Ez does what he's told this time.  Don't want to see him or anyone else end up in here."

The other men nodded their agreement as they resumed their wait.

* * * * * * * * * *

JD pushed open the door, wincing at the sound of retching that came from within.  Ezra's rapid exit had not been much of a surprise to him, since he had seen the color drain from his friend's face as he stared at his bloody clothing.  He sympathized with the southerner.  It was never easy to witness a friend being hurt, especially when you were wearing such a blatant reminder.  He suspected that Ezra was probably blaming himself for the incident – he had recognized the look in his eyes.  With a sigh, he stepped into the rest room.

"Ez?" he called out, then slapped himself on the forehead when he remembered that Ezra wouldn't be able to hear him.  Peeking under the edge of the stalls, he spotted his friend's crouched form in the last cubicle.  He walked to the opposite wall and pulled a few paper towels from the dispenser, running them under the tap.  Holding the towels on one hand, he pushed the stall door open cautiously, not wanting to startle the man.  

Ezra was bent over the toilet, his head resting on his arms.  Gently, JD reached out and touched his shoulder, prepared for a violent reaction – the undercover agent could be dangerous when taken by surprise.  Ezra jerked and turned wide eyes toward the younger agent, relaxing when he saw a familiar face.  

JD crouched beside him, eyeing him with concern.  "You all right?"  He handed him the paper towels.

"I will be fine," Ezra said hoarsely.  "It is Mr. Tanner who is in need of your concern."

"You aren't looking so fine right now, Ez," JD said, giving him a crooked smile.

Ezra waved his hand dismissively.  "I am not important.  I..."  He was interrupted when JD squeezed his shoulder angrily.

"Like hell!  You're just as important as anyone else!" JD yelled.  

"That's debatable, Mr. Dunne," Ezra said sadly.  "I'm not much good for anything these days."

"So you're just gonna sit here feeling sorry for yourself?" JD said, doing a fair impression of the Larabee glare. 

Ezra shrugged.  "I don't know what else to do."

"I don't want to hear anymore crap like that, okay?" JD said sternly.  "None of this was your fault."

"I think Mr. Larabee would disagree," Ezra said.  

"You know Chris always gets like that when somebody's hurt," JD said with a snort.  "Him and the others just need a target right now, since we don't have any bad guys for them to yell at."

Ezra looked away for a moment, then turned back toward the younger man and gave him a wan smile.  "I suppose we'd better find some miscreants for them, then."

JD laughed.  "You got any candidates?"

"Not yet," Ezra said with a sigh.  "I do not yet have any clues as to who might be targeting my person with such persistence."

"You think they're after you specifically?" 

"I believe so," Ezra said with a nod.  "The bullets...." He paused and took a breath.  "The bullets were aimed at me.  Mr. Tanner was hit while pushing me out of the way."

"Oh," JD said, pondering this information.  "And the warehouse went up after Vin had already left, so it makes sense that you were the target there, too."

Ezra nodded.  "I have made many enemies over the years, so there could be any number of people who wish to see me 'pushing up daisies', as Mr. Wilmington would say."

"We'll get them, Ez," JD said reassuringly.  "You ready to get out of here?"

Ezra nodded and allowed JD to help him to his feet.  Moving to the sink, Ezra grimaced at the sight that looked back at him from the mirror.  His eyes were bloodshot, and his face, still half-covered with bandages, was splotchy and pale.  Splashing water on his face, he tried not to look at his blood-encrusted shirt.

JD, sensing his discomfort, immediately shrugged out of the oversized flannel shirt he wore over a green t-shirt sporting the logo of the Boston Celtics.  "Here, Ez," he said, handing the shirt to the southerner.  "It should fit you."

Ezra took the shirt with a smile, grateful for the opportunity to remove the bloody clothing.  "Thank you, Mr. Dunne."  He quickly changed into JD's shirt, dropping his own stained garment into the trash.

"No problem," JD said.  "I wouldn't want to keep wearing that, either."

**_TBC_**

* * *


	7. Part 7

**Silent Memories **

by Violette

Part 7

* * *

  


Eventually, the two men made their way back to the waiting room, where Ezra returned to his seat in the corner.  Undaunted, JD went with him, refusing to allow his troubled friend to isolate himself from them.  The other men watched without comment, but Buck nodded quietly in approval when he caught JD's gaze.  Josiah smiled, noting the protective action on the part of their youngest.  JD might have been young, but he had good instincts, especially when it came to those he claimed as friends.

Chris stole a glance at his undercover agent, noting the change in attire.  He silently chastised himself for not paying more attention to him earlier.  Ezra had to be as worried as the rest of them, if not more.  He started toward the southerner, stopping when he caught sight of A.D. Travis entering the room.

"Chris," Travis greeted the blond agent.  "How is Tanner?"

"Still in surgery," Chris said.  "He got hit twice – drive-by at Ezra's place."

Travis switched his gaze to the undercover agent, who was still sitting quietly in the corner.  "Is he all right?"

"Yeah," Chris said.  "Vin tackled him when the shooting started."

"Do you think it's related to the explosion last week?"

"It's a good possibility," Chris said.  "Two attempts on my men in a week's time isn't a coincidence."

Travis sighed and shook his head. "This was not the kind of news I wanted to hear when I got home."  

"Not the kind I wanted to deliver, either," Chris replied.

"Any idea who's behind all of this?"

"Not yet, but we're working on it."

"I'll make sure you get the resources you need."

"We'd appreciate that."  Chris wasn't surprised to see the steely look in his boss's eye.  Travis was as protective of his men as he was, and would not sit idly by while they were being threatened.  

Travis nodded.  "Looks like I'd better pull up a chair."  He looked for an empty chair, deciding on the one next to Ezra.  He wanted to get the undercover agent's perspective on recent incidents.  While he didn't always see eye to eye with the independent-minded southerner, he appreciated the man's unique insights into situations.

"Would you like some coffee, sir?" JD asked the Assistant Director as he took a seat.

"That would be nice, Agent Dunne," Travis said with a faint smile for his young agent.  "Cream and two sugars, if you would."

"No problem."  JD jumped up and made his way around the room, taking coffee orders from his teammates, before heading down to the cafeteria. 

Travis turned to Ezra.  "What can you tell me about the shooting?" 

Ezra, staring at the floor, was unaware that anyone was speaking to him.

"Standish?"  Travis said, frowning at the lack of response from the normally verbose man.

Josiah, seeing the problem, walked over to sit beside Ezra, tapping his arm to get his attention.  At the younger man's questioning gaze, he pointed at Travis.

Turning to face Travis, Ezra schooled his features into an impassive mask, and said politely, "What can I do for you, sir?"

Puzzled, Travis looked to Josiah for an explanation.

"Ezra can't hear anything," Josiah explained from behind the southerner.

Travis looked back at Ezra, seeing the truth in that when the younger man didn't react to Josiah's statement.  Ezra was good, but so was Orrin Travis.  He had spent a lot of years as a federal judge and had quite a knack for reading people, picking up on even the slightest hint of emotion.  Having faced off with Ezra before, he had become adept at discerning the subtle reactions of the man.  There weren't many – Ezra was _very_ good – but there were enough that he could usually get a good feel for the southerner's true state of mind.  He sighed inwardly, wondering what else could go wrong with his men this week.  "I suppose I ought to find a pen and paper, then."

Ezra looked at him uncertainly, flicking his gaze to Josiah, who pointed at his ears.  Slumping in his chair, Ezra again fixed his eyes on the floor. "That won't be necessary sir."  

Travis raised an eyebrow inquisitively.  "Oh?"

"He reads lips," Josiah supplied with a chuckle.

"All right," Travis said uncertainly.  "Suppose you explain how you came to have this condition."  He watched his agent carefully, wondering if he actually understood what he had just said.

Flinching slightly, Ezra summarized the events of the past week, not looking his superior in the eye for fear of recrimination.

Shocked, Travis sat back in his chair, absorbing what he had been told.  This was certainly not something he had expected, though he should have learned by now not to be surprised by anything when it came to Team Seven.  Finally, he looked at Ezra, touching his shoulder.  "How are you feeling?"

Ezra's eyes widened at the honest sympathy and concern he saw in the older man's face.  "I've been worse," he said with a shrug.

"You've certainly looked better," Travis said with an encouraging smile.  "Do you have any ideas as to who might be after you or Tanner?"

"None yet, sir," Ezra said glumly.  "I am planning to go through my files after we see Mr. Tanner."

"Make sure you take one of the others with you," Travis said.  "If someone is after you, I don't want you going anywhere alone."

Ezra bristled at the comment, but kept silent, knowing his protests would be ignored. 

"I mean it," Travis warned.

"Of course, sir," Ezra said mildly.  _Unless I find it necessary to do so._

Travis nodded, satisfied with his answer for the time being.  

No one was in much of a mood for idle conversation, so they sat in silence, alternately pacing and drinking coffee.  Finally, after three hours, the doctor entered the room.  As one, the assembled men stood and gathered in front of him.

"You're here for Mr. Tanner?"  he asked.

"Yes," Chris answered succinctly.  "How is he?"

"Your Mr. Tanner is a very lucky man," the doctor began.  "He sustained two bullet wounds, one to the right side of his chest and one to the left shoulder."  He pointed to the corresponding locations on his own body.  "The shoulder injury was fairly clean, with the bullet lodging itself in his shoulder blade.  It nicked an artery, but didn't do too much serious damage."  

"And the other one?" Nathan prompted when the doctor paused to take a breath.

"The other one was a little more complicated," the doctor continued.  "It deflected off of a rib on the way in and exited at an angle.  There were quite a few bone splinters to remove along its path."

"Will he be all right?" JD asked, his voice quavering slightly.

"Barring any unforeseen complications, he should be fine."  The doctor smiled.  "Mr. Tanner was very fortunate to have received such timely care.  He might not have made it if he hadn't been treated so quickly at the scene."

The men in the room breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, clapping Nathan on the back for his efforts in saving Vin, much to the man's embarrassment.

"When can we see him?"  Buck asked.

"He's in recovery now, but we can let you see him two at a time," the doctor said. "But only for a few minutes."

"Chris, why don't you and Ezra go first," Josiah suggested.

Chris nodded, knowing that the worried southerner needed to see for himself that Vin was all right.  He tugged on Ezra's sleeve.  "Come on, Ez.  Let's go see Vin."

Ezra nodded reluctantly, not particularly eager to see the damage wrought by his own selfish behavior.  He felt terrible about what had happened, but he did need to know if his teammate was going to be all right.  Besides, he owed it to Vin to be there for him.  It was the least he could do for the man who saved his life.

* * * * * * * * * *

Tubes, wires, monitors, and the pale, lifeless form on the bed made Ezra want to flee the room as fast as his feet would take him, but Chris's solid presence behind him prevented that kind of maneuver.  Instead, he moved closer, taking a place near the head of the bed, wincing at the grayish pallor of the sharpshooter's skin.  

"Everybody looks like hell when they're in here," Chris said, seeing the expression on Ezra's face.  "Even Buck," he added with a grin.

Ezra smiled faintly, knowing how vehemently the mustached agent defended his good looks.  "I suppose that's true... though it doesn't make it easier to witness."

Chris turned to look at his bedridden friend. "No, it doesn't."

They spent the allotted few minutes with Vin before returning to the waiting room to allow the others to visit.  Ezra dropped into a chair and began picking at his torn bandages again.  After a few minutes, he looked up at Chris and said determinedly, "I'm going into the office to search my files."

Chris met his resolute gaze and knew there would be no changing his mind.  He didn't like it, but he understood the man's desire to make sense of what was happening.  "All right, but one of us is going with you."

Ezra nodded, not really caring about the company, as long as he could do something useful.

Noticing Ezra's hands for the first time, Chris frowned.  "I want you to get those hands looked at, too."  He held up his hand to halt any protest.  "Nathan can take a look when he gets back from seeing Vin.  If he says you need a doctor, though...."  He left the rest unsaid, knowing his point had been made.

"Very well," Ezra said, figuring that was the best deal he was going to get.

Nathan and JD returned from seeing Vin a few minutes later.

"What's the verdict, Nate?" Buck asked as he and Josiah prepared to go to Vin's room.

"His vitals look good," Nathan said encouragingly.  "From what I could see, he'll probably be fine.  He just needs lots of rest and time to let his body heal."

The entire group relaxed fractionally at the words, trusting Nathan's opinion.  Smiling, Buck and Josiah left to take their turn with Vin.

"I'd better get back home before Evie starts to worry," Travis said, climbing wearily to his feet.  "Keep me up to date on how Vin is doing."

"We will," Chris assured him.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow.  Make sure you boys get some rest yourselves," Travis said, tossing a wave at the group as he headed for the door.  

"Nate, can you check Ezra's hands?" Chris inquired once the Assistant Director had departed.  "I think he messed them up some more during the shooting."

Nathan immediately looked at the undercover agent, who was staring the floor again.  Frowning, he stood and made his way to Ezra's side, mentally chastising himself for not noticing the shredded bandages sooner.  "Ez?"  He touched him on the shoulder, then pointed at his hands when Ezra looked up at him.

Nodding reluctantly, Ezra held out his hands for inspection.

Nathan carefully unwrapped the bandages and checked the healing injuries underneath.  "Well, they don't look too bad.  Just need a little cleaning up."  He straightened and looked around the room thoughtfully. "I'll see if I can't scare up some fresh bandages to put on these."  He headed for the nurse's station, returning a few minutes later with some antiseptic cream and rolls of gauze and tape.  Expertly re-bandaging the hands, he looked Ezra in the eye and asked seriously, "How do they feel?  Do you need any pain meds?"

Ezra gently flexed his fingers and contemplated that question for a minute before shrugging.  "I believe some aspirin would suffice."

"I've got some Tylenol in my car," Nathan offered.

"That will do," Ezra said, smiling appreciatively.

"Would you mind going with Ez to the office?" Chris asked suddenly.  

"The office?" Nathan looked at his boss curiously.

"He wants to dig through some files, see if he can make some headway into figuring out who's after him and Vin," Chris explained, sending Nathan a meaningful look.

"Ah, sure, Chris," Nathan said.  He had caught the look and realized that Ezra needed something to distract him from the situation.  Feeling helpless was something he understood and he was more than willing to do something productive.  Vin would be in good hands here and would hardly miss them in his unconscious state.

"Shall we, Mr. Jackson?" Ezra said, having 'heard' what Chris had said.

"Let's go," Nathan said, pulling out his car keys.

* * * * * * * * * *

The words began to blur and the blinking cursor seemed to mock his futile efforts at divining the information held within its domain.  Closing his eyes wearily, Ezra rotated his neck on his shoulders, trying to ease the stiffness that had taken up residence in the muscles there.  So far, he had been unable to find anything in his files that seemed relevant to the attempts on his life.  It frustrated him that he had not made any kind of progress, especially when Vin was lying in a hospital bed because of it.

Nathan wandered over to Ezra's desk, scrutinizing him closely.  With a stern expression, he said, "Come on, Ez.  We've been here for five hours.  You're starting to look a little ragged."

"I'm fine, Mr. Jackson," Ezra insisted.  "I am quite able to continue."

"It's been a long night, Ez," Nathan argued.  "I'm beat and I _know_ you could use a little sleep." He slapped Ezra companionably on the shoulder.  "Besides, you'll be able to think more clearly after a good night's sleep." 

Ezra noted the dark bags under Nathan's eyes and relented, not wanting to keep the man from his own rest.  "I suppose you are correct.  My down pillow does sound rather enticing at the moment."

"We should probably crash at my place," Nathan said.  "The attacker obviously knows where you live, so I'd feel better if you didn't stay there."

Nodding at the wisdom of that idea, Ezra asked, "Can we just stop by my place for a few things?  I'd be more comfortable in some clean clothes."

"All right, but just for a few minutes," Nathan said, smiling at the ease with which he had convinced his stubborn comrade to leave.  It didn't happen very often and he was going to savor every minute of it.  "Let's go."

Ezra signed off of the computer and grabbed his coat, following Nathan out of the quiet office.  They didn't have to wait long for the elevator and were soon on their way to Ezra's apartment.  At that late hour, traffic was light and they made very good time, arriving at the condo complex within twenty minutes.  

Nathan parked the Blazer across from Ezra's townhouse and then the two of them crossed the street toward the building.  Halfway across the road, Ezra spotted some movement from the corner of his eye.  Before he could react, Nathan shoved him roughly forward, knocking him to the ground near the curb.  Ezra scrambled onto the sidewalk and immediately turned to look for his teammate.

Watching helplessly, Ezra saw the car hit Nathan, tossing him into the air like a rag doll before racing away from the scene, leaving Nathan lying in a crumpled heap in the road.  Ezra struggled to his feet and rushed to the fallen man's side.

"Nathan?" he called frantically, pressing a finger to the unconscious man's neck, praying that there would be a pulse.  He almost wept with relief when he felt the steady beat under his finger.  Fumbling in his jacket, Ezra pulled out his cell phone and with shaking hands, dialed 911.

There was no way to tell if anyone had answered the call, so he continuously repeated his request for assistance, explaining that he was deaf and unable to hear their responses.  Finally, the flashing lights of an emergency vehicle became visible and he was able to shut off the phone.  

The police had arrived shortly after the ambulance and Ezra was immediately pulled aside by one of the officers.  In the darkness, he was unable to see the patrolman's face clearly, though he could tell the man was speaking to him.  He held up a hand and politely interrupted.  "Officer, I am quite deaf and will need to move into the light in order to understand what you are saying."

The officer stared at him for a moment in consternation before nodding and gesturing toward Ezra's building and the lighted entryway in front of it.  

Ezra followed him, and was soon able to get a clearly lit view of the man's face.

"Is this better?" the officer asked.

"Much," Ezra replied. 

"Would you state your name, please?"

"Agent Ezra Standish," Ezra replied, displaying his federal identification.

The officer's eyebrows lifted in surprise.  "ATF?  Can you tell me what happened?" 

"Of course, Officer..." Ezra paused, looking at the nametag on his uniform. "...Barclay.  My associate, Mr. Jackson, and I had just arrived and were crossing the street in order to get to my townhouse, when a large, dark-colored sedan careened down the street toward us.  Mr. Jackson pushed me out of the way and then attempted to remove himself from the path of the vehicle." 

Ezra rubbed a hand over his eyes.  "Unfortunately, he was not entirely successful.  The vehicle struck him and left the scene at great speed.  I called for assistance once I had ascertained that he was still among the living."  He looked over to where the paramedics were working on Nathan, swallowing against the emotions that were threatening to overtake him.

"Can you tell me anything else about the car?" Officer Barclay asked once Ezra had returned his attention to his face.

"It was a dark color, blue, black, or possibly green – it was difficult to determine, as it was covered in dirt," Ezra said with a sigh, wishing he had gotten a better look at it.  "I only got a fleeting glimpse of it as it sped away, but it looked like an older model Buick sedan.  One thing I can tell you is that it was deliberately aiming for us."

"What makes you say that?" Barclay looked at him skeptically.

"Its headlights were not lit and it increased its speed as it approached us.  This is also the third attempt on my life in the past week," Ezra stated blandly.  "One of my other associates is in the hospital as a result of an attempt earlier this evening."  Ezra looked at his watch, noting that it was nearly three AM.  "Make that, last evening."

"I assume your boys are looking into that?"

"Most definitely," Ezra replied.  "In fact, Mr. Jackson and myself had spent the past several hours doing just that and were coming here to retrieve some things before heading off to get some sleep."

"All right," Barclay said, scribbling a few more lines into his notebook before shutting it.  "I guess we'll be coordinating with you guys on this.  You need a ride to the hospital?"

"Actually, I believe I will stay here," Ezra replied.  "I'm simply too exhausted to go anywhere at the moment."

"You have anyone to stay with you?"

"I will be fine," Ezra said dismissively.  "But you could do me a favor."

"What do you need?"

"Well, my deafness is a recent condition and I have no equipment with which to make telephone calls," Ezra explained.  "I would greatly appreciate it if you would call my superior, Agent Larabee, and inform him of Agent Jackson's imminent arrival at the hospital."  He wrote down Chris's cell phone number and handed it to Barclay.  "He is likely still at the hospital with the rest of my teammates."

"Larabee, huh?"  Barclay mused.  "I've heard of him."

Ezra smiled faintly.  "Mr. Larabee does have something of a reputation."

"All right," Barclay agreed.  "I'll take care of it.  We're probably going to have some men out here for another hour or two, so I'll have 'em keep an eye on your place while they're here.  You're sure you don't want to go to the hospital with Jackson?"

"No, I fear I will only be in the way."

"Okay," Barclay shrugged.  "We'll be in touch if we need anything else."

"Thank you for your assistance," Ezra said, shaking Barclay's hand before trudging wearily up the stairs to his apartment.  He knew he should go to the hospital to find out how Nathan was doing, but he couldn't bring himself to face yet another teammate being incarcerated in those sterile confines because of him.  

Enough was enough.  He was not going to allow any more of his associates to place themselves between him and the madman who was after him.  It was his own pathetic-minded fault that he was now deficient in his abilities to defend himself, and there was no point in making them pay the price for that weakness.  Their lives – any of their lives – for his would be an unfair trade, and he was going to do what he had to, to make sure that didn't happen.  The best way he knew to do that was to simply put some distance between them.  If his teammates couldn't find him, then they couldn't take bullets or get hit by cars in his place.  That decided, Ezra unlocked his door with shaking hands and entered his darkened apartment, unaware of the single tear making its way down his cheek.

* * * * * * * * * *

"What?!" Chris jumped up from his seat, roaring into the telephone, an outraged look on his face.  "When?"

The rest of his men, brought to attention at his outburst, looked at each other in dread.  Something was wrong.  Wrong enough to put the angry frown back on Larabee's face – the same frown he had worn when he had received the phone call about the shooting earlier.  They sat silently, waiting with trepidation as they listened to the one-sided conversation.

"All right," Chris said, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.  "Thank you, Officer Barclay."  He clicked off the phone and dropped his head for a moment, gathering his thoughts before turning to face his men.  "They tried again."

Silence reigned for a moment, then all of the men began to speak at once.

Chris finally held up his hand, waiting for them to fall silent before continuing.  "Someone tried to run them down outside of Ez's place.  Nathan got clipped by the car – they're bringing him in now."

"Ezra?" JD asked tensely.

"The cop that called said he was fine," Chris explained.  "Nate managed to push him out of the way."

"Thank God for that," Josiah said, relieved that at least one of his teammates had been spared.

"Shit," JD said.  "This is getting ridiculous."

Buck, sitting beside him, let loose a long string of more colorful curses as he beat his fist on the padded vinyl seat beside him.

"Nate's on his way in now," Chris said.  "I'm going to go down to the ER to wait for him."

"I'll go with you, brother," Josiah said.  "Someone's going to need to keep an eye on Ezra."

"Good idea," Chris agreed.

"Let us know how they're doing," Buck said.

Chris nodded over his shoulder as he and Josiah left the room.

"Damn," Buck said softly, slumping in his chair.  "This bastard is definitely persistent."

"He – or they – must have a hell of a grudge against Ez to attack him twice in such a short time," JD mused.

"Yeah," Buck replied.  "Wish we could find something on this asshole... before he puts the whole team in the hospital."

"Buck, I could go get my laptop," JD suggested.  "I can at least do some poking around while we're sitting here."  He shrugged.  "Looks like we're in for an even longer night, what with Nathan being here, too."

Buck thought about it for a minute, then nodded.  "It couldn't hurt.  Besides, you could pick us up some food while you're out.  The vending machine crap just ain't gonna cut it."

"Okay," JD said, jumping from his seat with an energy that made Buck feel like an old man.  "I won't be too long."

Buck leaned wearily back into his seat, watching the disappearing figure of his roommate as he jogged down the hallway.  "Hell of a night," he mumbled quietly.

* * * * * * * * * *

Cracking the door open slightly, Ezra stole a look outside, assuring himself that no one was watching before slipping quietly out the service entrance.  He had packed a bag as soon as he entered his apartment, hoping to be long gone before the inevitable appearance of one or more of his teammates.  He wanted to call a cab, but acknowledged the futility of attempting that, given his inability to hear.  He also didn't dare take his own car, since Larabee would probably have an APB out on him once his disappearance was discovered.  Thus, the best option was to make his escape on foot and acquire transportation later.  

Keeping to the shadows, Ezra silently made his way down the street, scanning the area constantly for any sign of surveillance.  Eventually, after what seemed like hours of walking, he made his way to a more commercial part of town, smiling in relief at the sight of the glaring neon sign of a Holiday Inn.  While it wasn't his first choice of lodging, it was a place that his associates would not think to look for him.

It took some negotiation, and a few extra twenties, but he was finally able to convince the clerk to accept cash instead of a credit card for the next two nights.  He shut the door of his room behind him and locked it securely, trudging the few required steps before collapsing wearily on the bed.  Ezra lay there for a minute, then reluctantly pushed off the enticing lure of sleep and made his way to the bathroom.  After brushing his teeth, he quickly shed his clothing, pulling on the silk pajamas he had hastily packed.  With a sigh, he crawled into the bed, burrowing under the blankets.  He was asleep within minutes, too exhausted to even care that the pillows were flat and that the sheets were not as soft as he liked.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chris watched with a grimace as Nathan was wheeled into the emergency room, a bloody bandage on his head and his left leg immobilized in a large splint.  He shared a glance with Josiah, whose face mirrored the same worry he was certain graced his own features.  They followed the gurney as the EMT's pushed it down the hallway, but were forced to stop at the treatment room doors by a burly orderly.

"You'll have to wait out here," he said, accustomed to dealing with concerned family and friends.  "You'll only be in the way, otherwise."

Chris wanted to argue, but he knew that the man was right.  He and Josiah reluctantly moved to the waiting room.

"Hell, I'm damn sick of seeing this room," Chris said, running a weary hand through his hair.

"You and me both," Josiah commiserated.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before Chris sat up suddenly and frowned, craning his neck as he searched the waiting room area.  

"What is it?" Josiah asked.

"Where's Ezra?"

The two men stared at one another for a moment before jumping to their feet and heading for the doors.  

Chris spotted one of the paramedics who had brought Nathan in filling out some paperwork at the admittance desk and changed direction.  "Excuse me," he called to the man.  "The man you just brought in... was there anyone with him?"

The paramedic looked at him, and shrugged.  "Nobody came in with him, if that's what you mean."

"Was there anyone else with him at the scene?" 

"There was another guy involved in the accident," the paramedic said with a nod.  "But he wasn't injured.  Last I saw, he was talking with the cops."

"Thank you, son," Josiah said. 

Chris mulled over the information with a frown. "You think he's driving himself here?" 

"Maybe," Josiah said.  "Perhaps the police wanted to talk to him some more before they let him leave."

"Yeah, that's probably it," Chris said, letting his eyes linger on the doors to the outside.  

"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Josiah said reassuringly.

"I'd feel a lot better if he wasn't alone, though," Chris said with a sigh.  "There's been too much shit going down lately and Ez has a knack for ending up right in the middle of it."

Josiah nodded, feeling the first stirrings of concern.  "I guess someone ought to check on him." 

"I'll go," Chris said, looking apologetically toward the doors to the treatment rooms, where Nathan was still being tended.  

"Why don't I go?" Josiah offered, knowing how much Chris wanted to remain for both Nathan and Vin.  "No offense, Chris, but you don't always have the patience required to deal with Ezra." 

Chris rolled his eyes, but recognized the truth in what Josiah was saying.  "He does know how to piss me off," Chris admitted with a wry smile.  "But I know you want to be here for Nathan...."

"Don't worry," Josiah said, clapping him on the shoulder.  "Nathan will understand.  In fact, if he were in our shoes, he'd be the first one to volunteer to drag our wayward brother's sorry ass back in here."

Chris chuckled at the image of a grinning Nathan gleefully dragging the kicking and screaming southerner into the hospital.  "Thanks, Josiah.  I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything about his condition."

**_TBC_**

* * *


	8. Part 8

**Silent Memories **

by Violette

Part 8

* * *

  


Josiah parked his Suburban down the block from Ezra's apartment, since police cars were still occupying most of the parking spots near the building.  Eyeing the broken glass in the street with a frown, he approached the small group of officers congregating in front of the townhouse, showing his badge as he joined them.

"Sanchez, ATF," he announced.  

"I'm Barclay," one officer identified himself.

They exchanged handshakes, then Josiah said, "I work with the men involved in the accident tonight."

"How is Agent Jackson?" Barclay inquired.

"I don't know yet," Josiah said. "They were still working on him when I left.  I wanted to check on Ezra – Agent Standish."

"He wasn't hurt," Barclay reassured him.  "He's up in his apartment, if you want to see for yourself."

"I think I'll do that."  Josiah nodded his thanks at the officers and jogged up the steps, impatient to speak with Ezra.  He reached the door and pressed the bell, groaning aloud when he remembered that Ezra wouldn't hear it.  The door was locked, so he withdrew the key Larabee had given him before he left the hospital.

Inside, he fumbled for the light switch, wondering why Ezra would be sitting in the dark.  "Ezra?" he called out, despite the futility of the effort.  Swiftly, he checked all of the rooms in the apartment, growing increasingly uneasy when Ezra was nowhere to be found.  After a second thorough check of the apartment, it was obvious that his friend was not there.  It could mean that he was on his way to the hospital, but knowing Ezra, Josiah didn't think that was the case.  

Sighing deeply, Josiah took out his cell phone, knowing his news was not going to be well-received.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Hey Chris," JD greeted his boss.  "Where's Josiah?"

"He went to check on Ez, since he didn't come in with Nathan," Chris replied, looking curiously at the laptop case and the large bags his young agent was carrying.

"Oh," JD replied.  "How's Nathan doing?"

"I'm still waiting to hear from the docs," Chris said, shooting another worried glance to the doors through which his agent had disappeared more than an hour ago.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," JD said hopefully.

Chris nodded in agreement.  "So, what's in the bags?"

"Oh, I almost forgot," JD said, grinning sheepishly.  "I picked us up some food at that all-night deli down the street."  He handed Chris two of the bags.  "Soup and sandwiches for you, Josiah, and Ez."  He handed him a smaller bag.  "Got some coffee, too.  It ain't the Starbuck's that Ez likes, but it's better than the battery acid that comes out of the vending machine."

"Thanks, JD," Chris said, his stomach rumbling as he peered into the first bag. 

"Well, I'd better get back upstairs," JD said with a sigh.  "Buck'll be waiting for his share of the food."

"Don't worry," Chris said.  "I'll let you know the minute I hear anything."

Chris's cell phone rang just as JD stood to leave.  "Larabee," he answered.  

JD paused by the door, frowning when Chris lowered his head and cursed.  Returning to stand next to him, he waited to hear whatever the bad news was this time.

"No word on Nate, and no, he's not here," Chris said wearily.  "I don't think he's coming, either." He listened for another minute, then said, "Do what you can."  

Chris shut off his phone and leaned his head back against the wall.  "Ezra took off."

"Damn," JD muttered.  "Is there anything I can do?"

Chris thought for a minute then looked at the younger man appraisingly.  "You think you can check for any bank or credit card activity?  Unofficially, of course."

"I can do that," JD said slowly.  "But this _is_ Ezra we're talking about.  I don't think it's going to be that easy."

"Maybe not," Chris said with a shrug.  "But he's tired and upset... he might not be at his best."

"I'll see what I can find," JD said.  "Just don't get your hopes up."

"Thanks, JD."

JD nodded, then headed off to the elevators, already forming his 'plan of attack.'

Chris looked at the bags of food and grimaced.  He no longer had  much of an appetite, but he forced himself to eat anyway, knowing that it would at least help him to stay awake through this endless night.

* * * * * * * * * *

Buck ambled into the ER waiting room and quirked a faint smile at the sight of his friend dozing in a chair near the doorway.  Quietly, he sat down next to the sleeping man, nudging him gently in the shoulder to wake him. 

"Huh?" Chris asked sleepily, blinking his eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights as he looked to see what had awakened him.

"Hey, pard," Buck said.  "Any news on Nate yet?"

"Not yet," Chris replied, stifling a yawn. "How's Vin doing?"

"Still out," Buck replied.  "They moved him down to intensive care an hour ago.  The doctor doesn't think he'll wake up 'til tomorrow. "

Chris snorted softly.  "Probably be sick as a dog from all that damned anesthesia."

"Yeah," Buck said with a grimace.  "That's gonna suck with them bullet holes in him."

"No joke," Chris agreed.  "Wish I knew what was taking them so long with Nathan."

"They probably just have lots of tests to run and stuff," Buck said with a shrug.  

"Yeah," Chris said with a sigh.  

"So, what's the deal with Ezra?" Buck asked.  "JD said something about him taking off?"

Chris frowned.  "He didn't show up here with Nate, so Josiah went to check on him.  We thought maybe he was tied up with the officers at the scene, but he wasn't there when Josiah got to his place."

"Shit," Buck said softly.  "He was already blamin' himself for Vin being here, and now with Nate... hell, this has got to be eating at him something fierce."

"Yeah, and the damn fool is running away from us." Chris shook his head.  "He still doesn't understand that we're all in this together."

"He's got a lot of history to get past, Chris," Buck said with a shake of his head.  "Gonna take some convincing for him to get over feeling guilty about what's been happening."

"Unfortunately, we don't have time for that," Chris reminded him.  "He's not a hundred percent, remember?  We have to find him before whoever's doing all this gets to him."

Buck nodded and they sat together silently for a few minutes, watching the hospital personnel bustling along the hallway.  Finally, Buck sighed and stood reluctantly.  "I'd better get back upstairs.  Don't want the kid to worry."

"Excuse me, is there a Mr. Larabee here?" The nurse had entered the waiting room unobtrusively, standing behind Buck as she scanned the faces of anxious friends and relatives.

"That would be me," Chris said, hastily climbing to his feet.

"If you could come with me," she said, gesturing toward the hallway.  "Dr. Tillman will be out to speak with you momentarily."

Chris and Buck followed the woman toward the admissions desk.  A dark-haired doctor was standing there, scribbling some notes onto his clipboard.

"Dr. Tillman?" the nurse said to the doctor.  "Mr. Larabee is here."  She pointed to Chris and Buck.

"Mr. Larabee?" Dr. Tillman inquired, looking from Buck to Chris.

"Yes," Chris replied.  

Nodding, Dr. Tillman answered, "You're here for Nathan Jackson?"

Chris nodded.  "How is he?"

"Mr. Jackson woke up a few minutes ago," the doctor began.  "He's suffered a moderate concussion – nothing too serious, there.  The problem comes in with the injury to his leg.  His left femur was broken in two places and it will require some surgery to set the bone properly.  He's on his way up to the operating room right now." Dr. Tillman looked at them with an encouraging expression.  "There were no internal injuries aside from a bit of bruising to the hip and kidney areas.  He'll be in some pain for a while and will probably need a little bit of physical therapy once the leg is healed.  It's not too bad, considering that he was hit by a two-ton hunk of metal.  It could have been much worse." 

"When will we be able to see him?" Buck asked.

"The operation shouldn't take more than two or three hours," the doctor explained.  "From there, he'll be moved to the recovery room for a few hours... just until the anesthesia wears off.  He'll be transferred to a regular room after that."

"Thanks," Chris said, shaking the doctor's hand firmly.  

Dr. Tillman nodded and strode briskly down the hall toward the treatment rooms.

"Looks like we'll both be going upstairs," Buck commented.

Chris his a yawn behind his hand and nodded wearily.  "At least the chairs are more comfortable up there."

* * * * * * * * * *

Despite his exhaustion, Ezra slept fitfully, his slumber disturbed by terrifying nightmares.  Finally, he gave up and crawled out of bed, tired of repeatedly experiencing dreams of his friends being killed in various ways while he watched helplessly.  It was far too close to the truth for his comfort.  

He took a shower, wrapping his bandaged hands in the plastic trash bags that had lined the small wastepaper baskets in his hotel room.  When he finished, Ezra stood before the fogged-up mirror, staring at his blotchy face and bloodshot eyes and grimacing at how unkempt he looked.  As bad as he looked, though, Nathan had looked much worse after the accident the night before.  Ezra sighed and reached for his razor.  He was going to have to find out how his fellow agent was faring, but he couldn't bring himself to face the injured man just yet.  What could he say to a man who was suffering because of him?    

Finished with his morning ablutions, Ezra wandered out of the bathroom and over to his suitcase.  He dressed slowly, unsure of what he was going to do that day.  Getting away from his teammates had been the only plan he had made last night.  He hadn't given much thought to his next course of action.  He clicked on the television, half-watching it as he pondered his options.  It was too soon to attempt to retrieve his car, and he assumed that his associates would be watching for him at the office, which didn't leave him with many places to go if he wanted to work on finding the miscreants who were determined to bring his life to an early close.

Ezra leaned back against the headboard of the bed and closed his eyes, wondering how everything could go wrong so quickly.  A little more than a week ago, they had been on the verge of wrapping up a routine case.  It had been a fairly easy one, with no complications – nothing that would require any unusual efforts on their part, unlike some of their cases.  But that all went to hell when the warehouse exploded.  It was bad enough that he had nearly been blown up, but now his teammates were being threatened and that was something he would not allow.

Opening his eyes, Ezra stared at the early-morning newscast, watching the pretty reporter babble cheerfully about the traffic conditions.  He groaned aloud when he remembered that it was Friday and that he was supposed to have his first session with the psychiatrist later that day.  While it wasn't his favorite thing to do, it was possible that it might help him to regain his hearing faster.  Given current circumstances, he needed to have all of his senses and abilities intact if he had any hope of defeating those who were after him.  Anything he could do to speed the process was worth a little inconvenience.  

He mulled it over for a few minutes, then decided there was a good chance that his teammates wouldn't think to look for him at the psychiatrist's office.  They knew how much he hated seeing doctors – psychiatrists in particular – and with the doctor being located in the same hospital as his friends, they wouldn't expect him to show up there.  There was also the added benefit of being able to inquire after the condition of his injured comrades while he was there.  Nodding his head resolutely, Ezra reached for his jacket and headed for the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

Josiah grimaced as he took in his friend's battered condition.  Nathan lay still in the bed, his leg in an elevated sling device that reminded Josiah of some ancient implements of torture.  His right eye was swollen shut and a large bandage covered the row of stitches they had put in to close the gash along his hairline.  With a heavy sigh, Josiah dropped into the orange plastic chair by the bed and lowered his head in prayer.

* * * * * * * * * *

Travis stood in the doorway surveying his men, who were sleeping in various uncomfortable positions in the waiting room.  He had received word about Nathan's injury upon his arrival at the office that morning, but it had been early afternoon before he could make his way to the hospital to find out more.  It had to have been a long and frustrating night for all of them as they waited for word on their wounded teammates and he had not been surprised when Team Seven failed to show up in the office.  

A touch on his shoulder roused him from his reverie and he turned to see Josiah Sanchez entering the room.  "Agent Sanchez," Travis greeted the big man.  "How are Nathan and Vin doing this afternoon?"

"They both came through surgery without any problems," Josiah replied softly.  "Vin's still in ICU for now – they want to keep a close eye on the chest tube."

Travis winced sympathetically.  He had once suffered through the ordeal of having a chest tube.  It was not something he cared to repeat.

"Nathan's in a regular room," Josiah continued.  "With that busted leg, he isn't going anywhere for a while."

"Where's Standish?" Travis asked, not seeing the undercover agent in the waiting room.

Josiah sighed.  "He bolted on us after Nate was hurt.  I spent most of the night looking for him, but he hasn't turned up yet."

"Damn," Travis said.  "The fool is going to get himself killed."

"The boy's carrying a load of guilt around," Josiah explained.  "I could see it in his face after Vin was shot.  He thinks it's his fault and that we blame him for the whole mess."

Travis shook his head.  Obstinate, prideful mavericks, every damned one of them.

"Would you like some coffee?" Josiah motioned toward the hallway.  "I'd like to let them sleep a while longer; they were up all night."

"I could use a good dose of caffeine," Travis admitted.  "Had a rather late night myself."  Tossing a last glance at his sleeping agents, he followed Josiah out of the waiting room.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra slipped quietly down the hall toward the nurse's station.  He still had some time before his appointment and he desperately wanted to know how Vin and Nathan were faring.  The nurse on duty was obliging and politely informed him of their respective conditions.  Releasing the breath he wasn't aware he was holding, Ezra thanked her quietly and turned around, a relieved grin lighting his features.  Fearing the worst, he had almost left without asking after his injured associates.  He didn't want to hear that one of them had not made it through the night, since just the thought of losing either of them caused him great distress. 

As he made his way toward the psychiatry department, Ezra caught sight of two familiar forms rounding the corner.  Fortunately, the two men were deep in conversation and had not yet noticed him.  Without thinking, Ezra ducked through the nearest door, which led to a laboratory of sorts.  There wasn't anyone inside, for which he was thankful, and he was able to wait by the door until Josiah and A.D. Travis had passed.  

After making sure the coast was clear, Ezra stepped back into the hallway and hurried toward his destination, hoping to make it there without any more unwelcome encounters.  Dr. Landry had assured him that this psychiatrist, Dr. Walters, was going to be different from what he expected.  Ezra trusted her judgment, but he had seen a lot of different psychiatrists over the years and he had found them all to have certain traits in common –  traits he saw as shortcomings.  He hadn't met one yet who had a decent sense of humor, and most of them had a distinct lack of understanding of what it took to lead the kind of life he did.  He sighed, praying that Dr. Landry was correct and that this doctor was not just another stuffed shirt who would waste his time attempting to analyze his relationship with his mother.  Ezra snorted.  That was one thing that definitely defied description.

The cheerful, round-faced man he encountered upon entering Dr. Walters' office was definitely not what he was expecting.  Dressed casually in jeans and a red polo shirt, he was shorter than JD and sported a neat white beard and a full head of white hair.  Ezra had the incongruous thought that he looked like Santa Claus's younger brother.

"Mr. Standish?" the man greeted him.

"Yes?"  Ezra studied the man and got the impression that he was somehow able to see right through him – something that made him distinctly nervous.

"I'm Dr. Walters," the man said with a smile, offering him his hand.  

"It's nice to meet you," Ezra said hesitantly, looking away from the penetrating blue eyes.

"Shall we get started?" Dr. Walters gestured toward his office.

"Of course," Ezra replied, swallowing his apprehension as he followed him inside.  

* * * * * * * * * *

"Hey, cowboy," Chris said, smiling for the first time all day.  "How ya feeling?"

"Like shit," Vin replied hoarsely.

"I bet," Chris replied with a chuckle, holding a cup of water with a straw for Vin to drink.

Vin sipped the water, then leaned back, frowning.  

"Something wrong?"

"Don't know," Vin said.  He looked around the room, then his eyes widened suddenly.  "Ezra!" He sat up and looked around wildly, searching for the undercover agent, then gasped at the pain that shot through chest.

"Calm down, Vin," Chris said, gently pressing the sharpshooter's head back down onto his pillow.  "Ez is just fine.  You pushed him out of the way."

"Where is he?" Vin asked hoarsely after taking a few shallow breaths.  

"He's not here right now," Chris said reassuringly.

"Where is he?" Vin demanded weakly, beginning to worry about the tone of his blond friend's voice.

Chris sighed and ran a hand over his stubbled face.  "He went AWOL on us last night."

"Should'a expected that," Vin remarked, shifting to find a more comfortable position in the narrow bed.  

"We were keeping an eye on him, but..." Chris trailed off, not wanting to upset Vin further.

"But what?" Vin inquired.

"Hell," Chris muttered.  "The bastard tried again last night – went after him with a car."

"And?" Vin prompted, knowing by the expression on Chris's face that there was more.

"Nathan was with him," Chris finally said.  "He got hit by the car – busted his leg pretty bad."

"Shit," Vin said, coughing weakly and grimacing at the pain the contractions caused in his chest.  "How's he doin'?"

"He'll be fine," Chris replied.  "He just won't be running any marathons for a while."

Vin cursed softly, casting a worried look toward Chris.  "We gotta get this bastard...," Vin paused, clenching his teeth and breathing shallowly as another wave of pain assaulted him. "...'fore he goes after Ez again."

Chris knew better than to admonish his friend for overdoing it.  Vin would just ignore him until he was finished with what he wanted to say.  "Yeah.  I have JD tracking Ez, and Buck and Josiah looking into possible suspects." Chris studied his friend.  "You get a look at the guy who got you?"

"No," Vin said regretfully.  "There was two of 'em in the car, though.  Didn't see much of the shooter.  Looked like he was wearin' a ski mask."

"Any idea where Ez might've gone?"

"Nope," Vin replied with a yawn, fighting the pull of sleep that wanted to reclaim him.  

Chris noticed Vin's struggle to stay awake and reluctantly patted his shoulder.  "Get some rest, cowboy.  You look like hell."

"Pot 'n kettle, Larabee," Vin mumbled, letting his eyes slide shut.

Still chuckling, Chris left the room, finally feeling secure enough to leave his friend's side.  It was always hardest for him to wait around during that indeterminate period before his injured friends returned to consciousness.  That was the time he feared the most, the time when things could suddenly take a turn for the worse.  It was the reason he was always so adamant that he stay with them, determined fight off the Grim Reaper if he decided to come calling.  

He had once overheard Buck telling JD that he would scare off that specter of death with his fierce glare if the he decided to venture near any of Larabee's men.  He had chuckled at the time, but he decided there was a grain of truth in that.  There were few people that he would choose to call 'friend', and he'd be damned if he was going to let any of them go without a fight.

Shaking his head at the morbid turn his thoughts had taken, Chris strode determinedly down the hallway to Nathan's room.  The others had been checking in on both Nathan and Vin periodically throughout the day, and Chris himself had split his time between their rooms, hoping to be there when each awakened.  The rest of his men would have been camped out there as well, if they hadn't had a missing comrade and a would-be murderer to find.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra leaned back in the taxi thoughtfully, staring blankly out the windows as he replayed his session with Dr. Walters in his head.  The man was good.  He could have had a career in law enforcement, judging by his slick interrogation technique.  Ezra was not one who was easily taken in, but the doctor had quickly put him at ease, and before long, he found himself talking about his life and his prior experience with deafness.  

It had shocked him later, how easy it had been to discuss the uncomfortable topic.  Normally, it took a lot of time before he felt comfortable discussing something so personal.  Dr. Walters had definitely risen in his estimation and he decided that he would have to compliment Dr. Landry on her judgment.  He didn't know if his session with the psychiatrist today had helped him any, but he didn't think it had hurt.  He was still deaf, but he felt confident that it wouldn't take as long as eighteen months for his hearing to return this time.

As he exited the taxi in front of his hotel, Ezra contemplated his next course of action.  His teammates would still be watching for him, so attempting to retrieve his car was out of the question.  He sprawled across the bed in his hotel room and pondered his options.  He needed transportation to get to his destination, and if using his own was out of the question, then he had to find an alternative.  

After a few minutes, a slow smile crossed his face as the perfect solution revealed itself.  But the smile faded as quickly as it appeared when he thought about the reason he had a problem in the first place.  There was still someone after him and his plan only postponed facing his adversary for a while.  Ezra didn't consider himself a coward, but he knew the value of a strategic retreat when the situation demanded it.  Right now, he needed time to plan and time to heal.  

Ezra stared at the bandages that still covered most of his hands.  Only when he was completely recovered from his burns would he be able to capably defend himself.  According to the doctors, that was at least another week in coming.  There was also the matter of his absent hearing, which cast its own pall over the situation.  With a sigh, Ezra flopped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling.  Why did his life have to be so complicated?

* * * * * * * * * *

"Hey!  Look who's finally awake!" Buck announced cheerfully as he and JD pushed through the door of Nathan's room.

"Hi Josiah," JD said to the older agent, who was sitting by Nathan's bed.

"JD, Buck."  Josiah nodded to the two men.

"Damn, Nate," Buck commented.  "What the hell kind of contraption is that?"  He pointed to the traction sling supporting Nathan's leg.

Nathan grimaced and rolled his eyes.

"It does look a bit like a medieval rack," Josiah said with a laugh.

"Feels like it too," Nathan grumbled.

"Guess you're gonna be stuck here for a while," JD said sympathetically.

Nathan glowered at him.  "Please don't remind me."

"How're you feelin'," Buck asked.

"Been better," Nathan said with a sigh. 

"That's what Vin said when we saw him earlier," JD said.

"'Least he'll be up and around in a couple weeks," Nathan replied glumly.

"Patience, my friend," Josiah chided gently.  "Isn't that what you usually counsel in these situations?"

"Yeah, well, it's easier from the other side of the bed," Nathan said ruefully.

The three visitors chuckled, but refrained further comment, not wanting to make their bedridden friend feel any worse.

"Any progress on finding Ezra?" Josiah inquired.

"Nothing yet," JD said.  "He hasn't used his ATM or credit cards, and hasn't showed up at any of his usual haunts."  He shook his head in frustration.  "He's not going to be easy to find."

"Slippery as a snake," Buck remarked.

"He's smart," JD said defensively, frowning at Buck for the unflattering assessment of his friend.  "Ya know, the guys we take down because of his undercover work make threats against him all the time.  He probably knows a lot of safe places to go in case any of 'em ever go after him."

"That's true," Josiah said reassuringly.  "I just wish we knew where some of those hideouts were."

"Can't pry information out of him with a crowbar," Nathan said with a soft snort.

"Can't blame him for being careful," JD countered.  "He's got a lot on his plate right now.  He's hurt, he can't hear, he's worried about Nathan and Vin, and somebody's trying to kill him."  JD shrugged.  "I'd  feel like hiding, too."

Buck looked at him thoughtfully.  "Never thought of it that way."

Josiah smiled, again realizing just how intelligent and insightful their youngest agent was.  Despite his best efforts, he was sometimes taken in by the man's youthful appearance and enthusiastic outlook on life, forgetting that he was a very capable agent.  

Nathan yawned suddenly, then smiled sheepishly at his friends.  "Sorry guys.  It ain't that you're boring; this medication just knocks me out."

"It's okay, Nate," Buck said amiably.  "You get some sleep."

"Thanks," Nathan said.  "You just find the SOB who did this and kick his ass for me."

The three men chuckled in surprise at the vehement statement from their mild-mannered friend.

"We'll get him, pard," Buck assured him.  "Don't you worry about that."

"I'll be back later, brother," Josiah said, tossing a wave at Nathan as he left.

Nathan waved at his teammates, then relaxed back into his pillows, wondering when this cycle of violence was going to end.  Someone wanted to kill Ezra badly enough to roll over anyone who got in the way.  It was bad enough that he and Vin had already fallen victim to this quest for blood.  He didn't want to see anyone else get hurt.  His mind was still whirling with worry for his friends as he drifted slowly into slumber.

**_TBC_**

* * *


	9. Part 9

**Silent Memories **

by Violette

Part 9

* * *

  


The shadows cast by the building hid him from view, the flickering streetlight not bright enough to penetrate the cloaking darkness.  Ezra had chosen this early hour of the morning, when few people were likely to be about, to put his plan into action.  He had been standing in this spot just down the block from his apartment building for half an hour, watching for any signs of surveillance.  Other than a patrol car passing by, he had seen nothing to indicate that his building was being watched.  Taking one last, careful look, he stepped out of the shadows and walked nonchalantly toward his objective.

Not for the first time, Ezra cursed his lack of hearing.  He had never realized how much he took that particular sense for granted.  Now that he was attempting to be stealthy, he noticed its absence more than ever.  It was unnerving, being unable to hear anyone approaching; no footsteps, no voices, no engine noises, no foliage rustling, no fabric brushing together – nothing.  This time, he would have to utilize his other senses to prevent himself from being detected.

His eyes darting around nervously, Ezra made his way toward the vehicle that was his target.  After the hit-and-run, no one had bothered to move Nathan's Blazer from the spot across the street from his apartment where it was parked.  Ezra knew his own vehicle was far too easy to track down, and he was counting on the fact that his teammates had probably forgotten about Nathan's truck during the flurry of activity surrounding the attacks.  By his estimates, it would be at least a day or two before anybody thought to retrieve the vehicle, and by then, he would be at his hideaway, safe from prying eyes, overprotective teammates, and murderous miscreants.

Ezra smiled to himself as he reached under the left rear corner of the truck, his searching fingers quickly locating the small magnetic box.  Nathan was nothing if not practical.  After locking his keys in the car once while rushing to a bust, he had had a duplicate key made so that he would be prepared if it ever happened again.  Hidden in the tiny metal case tucked in a corner underneath the vehicle, it was difficult to find... unless you knew it was there.  At another bust, Nathan had again locked himself out of the truck, and Ezra had witnessed his retrieval of the spare key, filing the information away for future reference.

A brief flash of guilt washed over him at his actions, but Ezra figured his teammates would understand.  They would yell at him and likely dispense some form of retribution, but he believed they _would_ understand why he had done what he did.  He sighed quietly as he started the truck.  It wasn't like Nathan would miss the vehicle.  In his present condition, he wasn't going to be able to drive any time soon.

The place he was headed was nearly two hours outside of Denver.  Ezra smiled at the thought that his hidden retreat was located at nearly the same distance away from the city as Vin's – and not too far away from the other man's cabin, at that.  As he was beginning to discover, he and the sharpshooter had much more in common than he previously believed.  

During his brief stay at Vin's cabin, he had learned a lot about the other man, much of which had been surprising. It was strange, yet comforting, to discover so many similarities in a man who appeared to be so different from himself.  Ezra wondered if, perhaps, they shared the same need for solitary reflection that had brought him to seek out his own refuge from the world.  As he drove the purloined vehicle toward the mountains, Ezra let his mind wander, thinking about the first time he had made this drive.  

_It was only his first month in Denver, and he was finding it hard to adjust to his new job and his new teammates.  After the way he had left Atlanta, he was still wary of the six men with whom he worked, unsure of his place among them.  He was afraid that they would somehow find him lacking, as his former associates had done, and this 'new beginning' would be over before it ever got started.  The disastrous ending of his first case with them earlier that day seemed to make it a certainty that he would soon be asked to leave._

_Ezra had not sensed any problems, but Murphy's Law had struck full force and their case against a notorious weapons merchant seemed to disintegrate around him, leaving him standing alone amidst the rubble of the operation.  The shit immediately hit the fan and then landed squarely on Ezra P. Standish, sullying his already-tarnished reputation.  It was another blow to his already- damaged ego and he found himself on the verge of simply giving up. _

Ezra sighed sadly as he remembered that day.  After the planned bust had fallen apart, he had spent the day having his ass chewed by everyone from the Director to the members of his own team.  Everyone had taken a turn yelling, berating, and chastising him for his failure, and by the end of the day, he was feeling worthless and depressed.  He had left the office that day, feeling the glares boring into his back, and wondering if he still had any chance of a future with the team.  

_His apartment held no appeal for him that evening, so Ezra climbed into his car and started to drive with no particular destination in mind.  Eventually, he found himself far away from the city lights, driving on darkened roads that seemed to have no end.  Weariness eventually brought a temporary end to his aimless journey, when he spotted a small motel along the lonely road and realized how drained he was from the hellish day he had endured.  He rented a room and fell into a restless sleep soon after his head hit the pillow, hoping that the world would seem more welcoming in the morning._

_Ezra greeted that Saturday morning much earlier than he would have on a normal weekend day, much to his chagrin.  His sleep had been fitful and he still felt sluggish and weary, but with nothing better to do, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower.  Within an hour, he had checked out of the motel and headed off in search of breakfast.  The desk clerk had recommended a small diner a couple of miles down the road, so he turned his car in that direction, finding it without difficulty._

_It was a clean enough place and Ezra decided it would do for breakfast.  While his order was being prepared, he sipped the surprisingly good coffee and flipped idly through the local real estate circular.  There were many cabins and small, rustic homes being offered in this rural area, none of which interested him, since he had no desire to reside so far from the city.  He tossed the magazine aside when the waitress arrived with his french toast and eggs, paying it no further heed until he was ready to leave.  _

_He was reaching for his coat when he glanced at the circular, a small, grainy picture on the back cover catching his attention.  Donning his coat, he snatched the circular from the table, smiling and thanking the waitress as he made his way out the door.  Once he was settled in his car, he perused the small ad intently._

_The image that had drawn his interest was of a would-be ski lodge that had not been completed.  According to the description, there was no ski area nearby, either, and Ezra suspected that it was a project whose funding had fallen through.  The building had been finished enough to protect it from the elements, but was not in a condition that would interest most people._

_"Handyman's special," he read aloud, snorting sarcastically.  Normally that would have been enough to kill his interest, but the Swiss-chalet design of the structure reminded him of a vacation home Maude's third husband had owned near Geneva.  Ezra had actually liked that stepfather and had pleasant memories of the chalet._

_The price for the building and the property on which it sat was absurdly low, so Ezra decided to go and take a look at it.  He had nothing else planned for the day and he figured it would at least divert his mind from his current problems for a little while._

Ezra pulled up in front of his hideaway and smiled.  He remembered his first view of the place on that day more than a year ago.  

_It was worse than he expected, looking forlorn and lonely, just like he was feeling that day.  The part of the house that had been completed was in good condition and showed the obvious signs of quality construction.  Equally obvious, though, was the flat, boarded up rear part of the building, where the builder had hastily halted construction when his funding ran short._

_The real estate agent who was showing him the property was unenthusiastic, apologizing for wasting his time, but Ezra decided that he liked the place, even though it would require some work before it was usable.  The flabbergasted look on the realtor's face when he told him calmly, "I'll take it," had given him something to smile about for the first time in days._

_Ezra drove back to Denver with a lighter heart.  Nothing had really changed, but he was inexplicably pleased about his new purchase and felt the faint stirrings of hope that maybe his future wasn't so bleak after all.  Maybe it was because he had something that belonged to him alone; something that no one else knew about, and thus, couldn't take away from him.  At the very least, he now had a refuge waiting for him if his life became too unpleasant.  _

_His hideaway in the hills was definitely a work in progress, much as his own life was at the moment, but Ezra was actually beginning to feel somewhat optimistic about the potential of both.  It might very well turn out to be a delusion of his weary mind, but, for the moment, it was all he had to hold on to.  With a silly grin on his face, Ezra drove back to the city, his mind filled with renovation plans for his new sanctuary – and for his career._

The renovations on the house had indeed taken several months of work, but he now had himself a spacious, two-story chalet tucked up against a small mountain.  There was even a lake on the property, and he indulged himself in the occasional use of a jet ski he had purchased in one of his more whimsical moments.  Ezra nodded to himself, deciding that he would invite Vin to visit, once he was free of the hospital.  The sharpshooter might have some good ideas for finishing the extra rooms he had added as an afterthought while completing the renovation of the building.  And besides, it was only fair to reciprocate the kindness shown to him by the other man.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Vin looked up at the sound of the door opening, smiling when he saw JD peeking around the doorframe.  "Hey, JD."

"Hi Vin," JD said cheerfully, stepping fully into the room.  "I wasn't sure if you were awake.  Didn't want to wake you if you were still sleepin'."

"Hell, all I been doin' is sleepin'," Vin groused.  

JD chuckled.  "Nathan said the same thing. I don't think he minds too much, though.  It keeps his mind off of his leg."

Vin grimaced in sympathy.  "I think I'd rather get shot.  Less down time that way."

"Poor Nate's already getting cranky," JD remarked.  "He's going to be real bear in a couple of weeks if they keep him in that traction thing."

"Maybe he'll learn to be more sympathetic next time one of us gets stuck in here," Vin said with a grin.

"I doubt it." JD said shook his head.  "You and Ez'll just have to keep practicing your escape techniques."

"You have any luck finding him yet?" Vin asked.

"Not yet," JD said with a sigh.  "He really went to ground this time.  I'm really worried about him."

"He's good at hiding," Vin commented. 

"Yeah, but I think I might have an idea on how to find him," JD said tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"Well," JD said hesitantly.  "When both of you took off, I started looking into some things for Chris, ya know, to find you guys...." He trailed off, looking embarrassed.

"What kind of things?" Vin asked guardedly, not sure if he liked the younger man's tone.

"I checked real estate records," JD admitted.  "I found out you and Ez both own some property.  His was harder to track down than yours, since he had it registered under a holding company, but I managed to find it anyway."

"Did you tell Chris?"

"No," JD said.  "I thought about it, but then I figured it wasn't anyone's business where you went."

"Thanks."  Vin leaned back and smiled, relieved that his cabin was still something of a secret.  It wasn't so much that he wanted to keep it from his friends, he simply wasn't quite ready to share such a private place with the rest of them yet.  Ezra had understood.  Vin had known, somehow, that he would.  The two of them shared a similar need for solitude and privacy, something he had recognized in the reticent undercover agent almost from the start. 

"I just know how much of a pain the guys can be when you're sick or hurt."  He shrugged.  "We're all adults.  We should be able to go where we want, when we want, without them breathing down our necks."

"You got that right," Vin agreed.  "That's why I never told you guys about my place."

"I figured," JD said with a grin.  "You think Ez holed up at his own 'vacation house'?"

"Yeah," Vin said with a nod.  "I was waitin' 'til I could get out of here to go check it out."

"You ain't exactly in the greatest shape to be chasin' around after Ez."

"Maybe not, but I didn't want to tell anyone about him havin' a hideout somewhere," Vin said.  "He wouldn't tell anyone about my cabin, so it wouldn't be fair to tell anyone about his place."

"I was thinking about going out there myself," JD said.  "You think he'd get mad at me?  Ya know, intruding on his privacy and stuff?"

"Nah," Vin assured him.  "Long as you don't bring the rest of the crew along."

"Not a chance," JD said with a snort.  "I wouldn't do that to Ez."

Vin laughed, then gripped his chest and grimaced. "Damn that smarts."

"Sorry, Vin," JD said, chagrined to have caused his friend pain.

Vin waved off his concern, taking a few shallow breaths until the pain subsided.  "So where's Ez's place at, anyway?"

Grinning, JD pulled out the information he had gathered.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Buck!" Chris called to the other man as he hurried into the bullpen, making a beeline toward his office.

Buck looked up from his computer, tilting his head quizzically.

Chris motioned toward his open door, striding through it without a backward glance, certain that Buck would be right behind him.

Buck followed quickly.  "You bellowed?"

"Got a possible lead on our bad guy," Chris said, handing him a rap sheet.

Buck glanced over the information and frowned.  "Benny Silva?  I thought he was in for ten?"

Chris gave a disgusted snort.  "The asshole turned informant.  He ratted out a couple of bigger fish and got his sentence reduced.  He was only in prison for eight months."

"How come nobody told us about this?" Buck looked up, anger flashing in his eyes.

"He wasn't that big a player," Chris said.  "Nobody took him too seriously."

"Shit," Buck said, rubbing his moustache thoughtfully.  "You think he's our guy?"

"It's possible," Chris said with a sigh.  "He was a vicious little bastard, even if he didn't have that much clout."

"He did make a lot of threats against Ezra," Buck agreed.  "He wasn't too happy to find out that his new best buddy was an ATF agent."

"No kidding," Chris said, remembering the litany of foul curses and threats that had issued form the diminutive man as they arrested him.

"Do we know where he is?"

"I have Josiah checking with his parole officer right now," Chris replied.  "I want you to check out this list of his favorite hangouts and known associates."

"I'm on it," Buck said, taking the list as he headed for the door.

"Have you seen JD?" Chris asked.  "I want him to start checking for car registrations and such."

"He said something about stopping by the hospital this morning, but I haven't seen him since."

"Well, if you see him, tell him to give me a call," Chris said.

"Will do, bossman," Buck said with a grin as he set off to start his task.

Chris sighed, rubbing his temples as he stared at the picture of Bento Silva.  This was the first solid lead they had come up with and Chris was determined to chase it down as quickly as possible.  With Ezra's location unknown, he wanted to eliminate the threat before it caught up with his missing agent.  He wished Ezra had not taken off the way he had.  "What was he thinking?" he asked aloud, turning to look out his office window. 

Chris closed his eyes, knowing exactly what the southerner had been thinking.  He had felt the same way after his family had been violently ripped from him, but instead of physically isolating himself, he had sought his refuge in a bottle.  Guilt was a powerful emotion, capable of driving a man to extremes.  Chris watched as a fluffy cumulus cloud drifted across the small slice of the sky visible from his window.  He understood all too well what the other man was feeling, but that didn't mean he had to like it.  

* * * * * * * * * *

The sun was leaking around the edges of his curtains when Ezra finally opened his eyes.  Groggily, he squinted against the brightness in his room.  A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand had his eyes widening in surprise.  Two in the afternoon was late to awaken, even for him.  Of course, he did have an unusually long night.

Stretching carefully, Ezra climbed out of bed, feeling more relaxed than he had since leaving Vin's cabin.  There was still an undercurrent of worry for his teammates, but he didn't feel like he had to spend every second looking over his shoulder, like he had back in the city.  This was his place and no one would be disturbing him here.

After luxuriating in the shower, he made himself some french toast and sat in the sunroom off of the kitchen, sipping his coffee while he enjoyed the view of the lake.  Ezra's thoughts wandered to his teammates – and how furious they probably were with him now.  A smirk formed on his face as he pictured Chris ranting and raving over his absence.  He did regret causing them any distress, but it was for the best, whether they believed it or not.  This way, everyone was safe while his injuries healed and he regained his ability to defend himself.

Ezra finished his coffee and stood, carrying the cup into the kitchen, where he placed it in the dishwasher he had installed during his renovations.  Washing dishes had always been one of his least favorite kitchen tasks, so he had allowed himself the luxury of a dishwasher.  After all, he had never meant for this place to be an exercise in 'roughing it.'

He strolled out into the spacious living room, stopping at one of the tall oak bookshelves to select a book.  Over the years, Ezra had amassed a substantial number of books, many of which he had never found the time to read.  After he had finished the renovations on the house, he had moved most of the extensive collection here, since his apartment was too small to house all of them and he would have otherwise had to put them in storage.  

As he turned around, intending to take a seat on the couch, Ezra noticed the handle on his front door turning.  Dropping the book, he dove to the side, reaching into one of the end tables.  He withdrew a gun and crouched behind the sofa, his heart racing as he waited for the intruder to come into view.  After a tense moment, his grip on the gun loosened and he sagged with relief.  Pushing himself to his feet, Ezra tucked the gun into his waistband and went to meet his visitor.

"Mr. Dunne," he said, cocking his head to the side curiously.  "This is a surprise."

"Hey, Ez," JD said, giving him an embarrassed wave.  "Sorry to just barge in, but I didn't figure you'd hear me knocking."

"That is true," Ezra allowed.  "Please, do come in."

"Thanks."  JD walked inside, his gaze roaming around the large room.  "This is a nice place."

"Thank you," Ezra replied.  "Have a seat."

JD dropped into one of the overstuffed chairs and craned his neck, looking upwards. "I always liked cathedral ceilings."

Ezra smiled as he took his own seat.  "So what brings you to my humble abode?"  He didn't bother asking how JD had found out about the place, since he knew how intelligent the younger man was and how resourceful could be when he wanted.

"I was worried about you," JD admitted, looking somewhat abashed at the admission.

"The others don't know that you're here?"

"Just Vin," JD answered, shaking his head.  "I talked with him this morning.  I wanted to get his opinion about coming out here, since I found out about his property too."

Ezra lifted an eyebrow and grinned.  "You've been busy."

JD flushed, shrugging awkwardly.  "I found out when I was looking for you guys last week."

"And you didn't tell anyone else?"

"No," JD said.  "I didn't figure it was anyone else's business... no matter how much they think it is."

Ezra chuckled.  "I'm glad you feel that way."

"I wanted to come out here to make sure you were okay, though," JD said, holding up his hand to forestall the protest he knew was forthcoming.  "I know you can take care of yourself, but even you have to sleep sometime."

"You do have a point there," Ezra said, smiling faintly in amusement.  "Though, I doubt anyone else will find us here.  Most people aren't as resourceful as you, JD."

JD smiled, warmed by the compliment and the fact that Ezra had used his first name.

"It might be a good idea to inform Mr. Larabee that I am indeed alive and well," Ezra said with a sigh.  "It would be rude to worry them unnecessarily, especially since you have now disappeared from their purview as well."

"Yeah, I suppose I should call them,"  JD agreed with a nod.  "I won't tell 'em where we are, though."

"They won't appreciate that," Ezra warned with a smirk.  

"That's their problem," JD said, grinning broadly.

"I believe I am a corrupting influence on you, my friend," Ezra said, clapping the younger man on the shoulder.

Still smiling, JD pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Dammit!" Chris cursed, pacing the length of Vin's hospital room agitatedly before turning on his heel and striding back to the other end.  "He didn't tell you anything?"  He listened for a minute, his frown deepening.  "Let me know if you find anything."  Frustrated, Chris stabbed the off button on his phone and snapped it shut, barely resisting the urge to throw it across the room.

"Problems?" Vin asked quietly from the bed.  He had a good idea why his friend was so irritated, but he wanted to find out for sure.

Chris stepped closer to the bed and dropped into the nearby chair with a sigh.  "JD found Ezra, but he won't tell us where he is."

Vin tried to hide his smirk but wasn't quite successful.

Chris's eyes narrowed and he gazed at the bedridden man suspiciously.  "You know something about this?"

Vin grinned mischievously.  "Maybe."

Chris saw the stubborn and determined look in his friend's eyes and knew he would get nothing more out of him.  He muttered another curse, making Vin grin even wider.

"Relax, cowboy.  They'll be fine," Vin said confidently.

Chris ran a hand over his face.  "Can't help worrying about them.  They both attract more than their share of trouble."  He turned to Vin and smiled faintly.  "So do you, for that matter."

"Comes with the job, pard," Vin reminded him.

"Yeah." Chris nodded, acknowledging the truth of the statement.  "I just wish you guys didn't get more than your share of it."

* * * * * * * * * *

JD dropped onto the sofa with a frown, annoyed with his roommate.  Buck had completely dismissed him, as if he were too incompetent to watch out for Ezra himself.  He fingered his phone, then shoved it into his pocket with a sigh.  It was something he should be used to by now.  Except for his computer skills, his teammates often discounted his abilities, forgetting that he was a fully-qualified agent, just like them.  JD understood that he was the youngest and expected some amount of grief from his older workmates, but sometimes it really got to him.  He was twenty-six years old, after all, and he had paid his dues as a beat cop on the streets of Boston.  He was no rookie, even if the others treated him that way.

"Something troubling you, Mr. Dunne?" Ezra noticed the distracted look on his young associate's face as he entered the living room with two cups of coffee.

"Thanks, Ez," JD said, taking the coffee gratefully.

Nodding his head in acknowledgement, Ezra took a seat on the other end of the sofa.

"I called Buck," JD said after taking a sip of his coffee.

"I take it he was less than appreciative of your success at locating me?"

JD gave him a wan smile.  "You could say that.  He kept pushing me to tell him where you were."  He looked away and ran his finger along the side seam of his jeans.  "I just get tired of him – them – always treating me like I don't know anything.  Like, I'm some kind of idiot who can't do anything without them holding my hand."

"It is difficult to deal with a lack of trust in one's abilities... for whatever reason," Ezra said knowingly.

JD looked at him thoughtfully for a minute, then nodded slowly.  Of all of them, Ezra probably understood the best, having had his own abilities called into question on many occasions.  That was probably the reason the undercover agent treated him as an equal.  Their older teammates were usually overprotective, but Ezra never acted as if he was anything other than a competent agent.

"They will figure it out eventually, JD," Ezra said reassuringly.  "It will just take some time."

"I know."  He quirked a grin at Ezra.  "Still annoying, though."

Ezra laughed, in complete agreement with his young compatriot.  "The trick is to aggravate them in turn."

JD grinned.  "I'll remember that."

"So, was Mr. Wilmington terribly annoyed with us?"

"Yeah," JD answered.  "He said they have a lead on someone who might be behind all of this crap."

"And who might that be?"

"Benny Silva," JD replied.  "Seems he got out of jail early by selling out his old pals."

Ezra rolled his eyes.  "The wheels of justice don't always turn the way we want them to."

"You think he's the one?"

Ezra frowned, recalling his interactions with the abrasive man.  "It's possible, but I don't think it's him.  It's not his style."

"Why not?" JD asked curiously.  "He was a pretty nasty character."

"Yes, he was," Ezra agreed.  "But he would want to confront me before killing me.  He was arrogant, and I believe he would want me to know it was him in order to prove his superiority.  The man thrived on power and control and he would want to flaunt such a success – throw it in my face, if you will."  He shook his head.  "These attempts on me have been more impersonal.  Whoever is doing this doesn't care that I don't know who he is.  He just wants me dead."

"That makes sense," JD said, nodding.  "Do you have any idea who it might be?"

"Not yet," Ezra said, frustration evident on his face.  "I was planning to continue my research once I arrived here."  He gestured toward the laptop computer sitting on the end table near the couch.

"I can help," JD said.  "I brought my laptop, too."

"I'd appreciate that, JD," Ezra said sincerely.  

JD smiled and jumped up, racing outside to retrieve his computer from the storage compartment on the back of his motorcycle.

Ezra watched him go, smiling faintly at the young agent's level of enthusiasm.  Between the two of them, they should be able to find out who was trying so hard to kill him... before anyone else fell victim to his persistent attempts.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chris glared through the one-way glass at the greasy-looking man sitting inside.  "That was quick.  Where'd you find him?"

"He was in a, um, compromising position with one of the local streetwalkers at the Blue Moon Motel," Buck said with a smirk.  "One of his buddies at that strip club down on Weld St. told me he usually picks up some 'company' on the weekends."

"I bet he wasn't too happy at the interruption," Chris said, the corners of his lips turning up in a faint smile.

Buck snorted.  "Not by a long shot."

Chris grinned at his friend.  "Shall we?"

"After you, big dog," Buck said with a laugh, gesturing toward the door.

Buck and Chris entered the interrogation room, much to the dismay of Benny Silva.

* * * * * * * * * *

JD stood and stretched, flushing in embarrassment when his stomach rumbled loudly.  His discomfiture was short-lived, however when he remembered that Ezra would not have heard his stomach's complaint.  It was odd how he could so easily forget that his friend was deaf.  Ezra seemed to manage it so well.  JD shuddered at the thought of what it must be like to lose your hearing.  He didn't think he would be so calm about it, but maybe Ezra's previous experience made it easier somehow.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Dunne?"

"Huh?" JD turned to find Ezra watching him with concern.  "Oh, I was just daydreaming." He grinned sheepishly, not about to disclose his thoughts to the other man.

Ezra grinned, then glanced at his watch.  "I don't know about you, but I am about ready for dinner."

"I could eat," JD agreed with a nod.

Ezra stood and headed for the spacious kitchen.  Curious to see another part of the house, JD followed.

"Wow, this is great, Ez!" JD said as he stepped through the doorway into the room.  The kitchen was large, with skylights in the ceiling to provide natural lighting during the day.  It was dark outside now, but the kitchen was well-lit by a multitude of recessed lights.  Dark blue countertops lined the walls, complimenting the stainless steel appliances.  Yellow and white tiles and matching curtains gave the room a sense of warmth, making it feel welcoming and comfortable rather than sterile and utilitarian.

"Thank you," Ezra said, pleased by the appreciative glances his friend was giving the room.

"You must like to cook," JD remarked, gesturing toward the six-burner stovetop and the two large, built-in ovens.

"I do," Ezra replied.  "But most of this was here when I bought the place.  It was destined to be a ski lodge, so the facilities were designed to accommodate cooking for large groups."  He shrugged.  "I decided not to change it... though I did put another bedroom upstairs instead of the second kitchen that was in the original plans."

"I like it," JD said.  "You have lots of room to work in here."

"Do you enjoy cooking?"  Ezra looked at him curiously.

JD reddened slightly and shrugged.  "Yeah.  I used to cook a lot after my mom got sick.  Got pretty good at it, but I don't do it much now, 'cause Buck's always making jokes about how bad my cooking is." He snorted.  "Just because I burned a frozen pizza once in that broken-down excuse for an oven we've got.  It's not my fault the thermostat has a mind of its own."

Ezra grimaced.  "That _would_ make cooking somewhat more difficult."

"It's a lot easier when you have the right tools," JD agreed, looking with interest at some of the pots and pans hanging on a rack above his head.

"Feel free to indulge yourself while you're here." Ezra grinned and waved his arm around the kitchen.

"I might just take you up on that," JD said with a smirk.

"I'm afraid my supplies are a bit limited at the moment," Ezra said apologetically.  "I was planning to do just a simple pasta tonight."

"That sounds good," JD said.  "I can make some garlic bread?"

"Be my guest."

JD reached for the loaf of French bread that sat on the counter near the cook top and set to work.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Goddamnsonofabitch!" Buck cursed as he slammed down the telephone.

Chris looked up and sighed.  "Let me guess.  His alibi panned out."

"You got it," Buck said, frustration evident in his voice.  "He was meeting with his parole officer when the drive by happened, and he was working at his cousin's garage when the warehouse blew up."

"Guess that means we're back at square one," Chris said gloomily.  They had spent the previous evening interrogating Benny Silva, but the man had held firm to his story.  Chris had been hoping that he was their man, so they could put an end to threat to his team.  Now, unfortunately, they had to start over.

They sat silently for a few minutes, pondering their next step until Buck finally broke the silence.  "What's the word on Vin and Nathan?"

Chris chuckled.  "Chomping at the bit to get out of the hospital."

"I'll bet." 

"Has JD checked in yet today?"

"Not yet," Buck answered.  "I was waiting until I checked out Silva's alibi before I tried calling him."

"See if you can convince him to bring that dumbass southerner back here," Chris said.  "I want him where we can protect him."

"I'll try, but he's damn near as stubborn as Ezra."

Chris rolled his eyes and headed for his office, muttering about the "damn fool idiots" he had on his team.

* * * * * * * * * *

His cell phone rang, and after checking the calling number, JD debated whether or not he was going to answer.  Buck had ticked him off with his attitude the last time they spoke, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear any more of that.  Finally, though, he decided to answer, since he knew that Buck would just keep calling until he did.  "Yeah, Buck," he said into the phone.

"Hey, kid," Buck said.  "How's everything with you guys?"

"We're fine, just like I said we would be."

Buck groaned inwardly, realizing that he must have offended his roommate somehow.  "Got some news for ya.  Turns out Benny Silva's not our guy."  Buck let out a frustrated sigh.  "We picked him up last night, but he had an alibi for the warehouse and for the shooting."

"Damn," JD said with a frown.  "Any other suspects looking good?"

"Not yet," Buck replied, then after a pause, "Look, kid... we'd feel a lot better if you guys would get back here where we can back you up."

"Buck," JD began.  "We're fine where we are.  Nobody'll find us here."

"Yeah, but...."

"No, Buck," JD said determinedly.  "We're both capable agents.  We can take care of ourselves.  I'll see ya whenever I get back."  With that, JD clicked off his phone.

On the other end, Buck hung up his own phone, chuckling and shaking his head.

"What's so funny?" asked Josiah, who had just returned from the hospital.

"JD," Buck replied.  "He's been hangin' around the rest of us mule-headed bastards way too much."

Josiah laughed aloud.  "Well, at least we know he's learning something."

**_TBC_**

* * *


	10. Part 10

**Silent Memories **

by Violette

Part 10

* * *

  


The day passed quietly, with both Ezra and JD working on their laptops, searching through past case files to find the person who was so determined to kill the undercover agent.  JD had taken a break early in the afternoon and, following Ezra's directions, had taken Nathan's vehicle to the nearby town to pick up some food.  When he returned, he was unsurprised to find Ezra still hard at work – he did have the most at stake, after all.  He put the food away in the kitchen, then returned to his computer.

It was nearing six o'clock when JD stood and stretched.  I'd better get started on dinner.  He turned to head for the kitchen, but stopped when he received no reaction or response from Ezra.    He looked over at his friend, a worried frown creasing his brow when he saw the distressed look on the other man's face.  Quickly, he moved to stand next to him, touching his shoulder to garner his attention.

Ezra turned to face him and JD grew even more concerned at the pallor of his face and the haunted look in his eyes.

What's wrong? he said carefully, wanting to make sure that Ezra understood him.

Closing his eyes, Ezra shook his head, then turned back to the younger man beside him, stating in a near-whisper.  I've discovered the identity of my nemesis.

Taking a deep breath, Ezra began, I received an email from a former colleague at the FBI.  He paused again, gathering his scattered thoughts.  A man I arrested four years ago was released from prison.

And they're just now telling you?

Ezra said.  He was released two months ago.

Two months! JD exclaimed.  Aren't they supposed to let you know within a day of his release?

Ezra gave him a mirthless smile.  Only if your name is on the Please Notify' form.  Apparently, someone neglected to include mine, even though I'm certain I filled out the proper paperwork.  Twice.  My colleague assures me it was a clerical error.  He rolled his eyes in disgust.

Clerical error my ass! JD said, angry for this mistake that had caused his friends so much pain.  

Yes, well, such things happen to me quite often, Ezra said bitterly.  He suspected that his name was not recorded out of pure spite.  He had taken over the case after a series of agents had failed to make any progress.  It had only taken him one month to bring down one of the nastiest criminals he had ever had the displeasure of meeting.  Instead of congratulating him on his success, however, his fellow agents had attacked his methods and made snide remarks about his fitting in so well with the criminal element.

JD knew there was more to that comment, but decided Ezra was stressed enough without his prying into something that was obviously unpleasant. So, who's the bad guy?

Ezra's face changed, a look of utter loathing taking up residence on his features. Byron Keller.  We were after him for child pornography, but he dabbled in all manner of criminal activities –  anything that would make him money.

JD looked at him blankly for a moment before his eyes widened in comprehension.  I remember reading about him.  A couple of the kids he, uh, exploited were from Boston.

He was a very smart man, Ezra said.  We ended up only being able to get him on weapons charges, despite my testimony to what I witnessed while undercover in his organization.  Ezra's eyes got a faraway look and he continued quietly.  He was a sick bastard.  I saw him throw two of his men into a pit with several vicious Rottweilers because he caught them partaking of the goods.'  They deserved punishment for such despicable acts, but that was just... barbaric.  It took them hours to die.  I heard even worse stories from some of his men.  He prided himself on his... creativity.

JD breathed.  How come you couldn't get him on murder?

He always managed to get rid of the evidence, along with the witnesses, and... my testimony was not enough. He looked up at JD with a resigned look in his eyes.  My reputation was considered questionable', and his lawyers jumped all over it.

That sucks, JD said sincerely.  Are you sure he's the one after you?

I'm fairly certain, Ezra replied.  He was quite vehement in his threats to my person once he discovered I was an agent.  Also, the variety in the methods of attack is one of his trademarks.

What, does he get bored with just shooting people? JD asked sarcastically.

Ezra answered with a small smile.  Like I said, he's a loathsome individual.

So, what do we do about him?

Ezra rubbed his hand over his face.  I don't know.

JD began.

Maybe we should go back and see what the others think?  JD looked hesitantly at his friend, hoping he wouldn't be offended by the suggestion.

Ezra considered the idea for a minute, then nodded his head slowly.  I think that might be a wise idea.  Byron Keller is not someone to take on without substantial resources.  He hated to admit that he couldn't handle this alone, but Ezra knew that, handicapped as he was, it would be too difficult to keep himself and the rest of his team from harm.  It would take a lot to dislodge JD from his side, now that he was here, and he was not going to allow his pride to place the younger man in Keller's sights.

I'll call the guys and tell them what's up, JD said, glad Ezra couldn't hear the relief in his voice.  Do you want to head back tonight?

Ezra said, trying to decipher JD's rapid-fire speech.  I think tomorrow morning would be soon enough.  Our associates can consider the situation without our immediate presence.  He grinned at the younger man.  Besides, I'm looking forward to sampling the culinary masterpiece you're planning to create this evening.

JD returned the smile and pulled out his cell phone.  

* * * * * * * * * *

Chris sighed, dropping the telephone handset back onto the cradle as he leaned his head back against the sofa cushions.  One part of him was relieved at the news JD had imparted, but the other part grew even more concerned about the danger to his team.  He was glad that the threat now had a name, but the particular name didn't make him feel much better.  

He remembered reading about Byron Keller in Ezra's file.  The man was brutal, killing with abandon while he built his criminal organization, though it could never be proven.  The details in the file were sparse, but judging by Ezra's tight expression when he had inquired about it, the case was not a pleasant one.  Now, in another case of his team not receiving adequate notification, the man was out on the streets, free to continue his illegal activities.  These failures in the system were something his superiors were definitely going to hear about.

With a sigh, Chris picked up the phone again.  The rest of the team needed to be alerted to this new development so they could start planning how to bring the bastard down.  A feral smile graced his features as he thought about going after Keller.  No one threatened his team.  No one.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra sampled the food in front of him, a delighted smile lighting his face.  Coquille St. Jacques?  Mr. Dunne, I'm impressed.  He paused to take another bite.  This is wonderful.

JD beamed with pleasure at the compliment.  I had to use frozen scallops, but it seemed to work okay.

Ezra said.  Fresh scallops are somewhat difficult to come by out here.

This was one of my mom's favorites, JD said, a wistful look in his eyes.  I cooked it for her whenever she'd let me.

I'm sure she appreciated it, Ezra said.  Unlike your heathen of a roommate.

JD snickered.  Buck thinks gourmet food means fresh pizza instead of frozen.

Perhaps we can arrange to show him what he's been missing? Ezra suggested.  Mr. Larabee's ranch has a serviceable kitchen.  You might try preparing something for the next gathering.

JD grinned broadly.  It'd be worth the effort to see the look on his face.

I look forward to it.

They finished their meal in silence, each of them thinking about what the next day would bring.  Ezra wasn't looking forward to returning, but he understood the necessity of the action.  The rest of the team would certainly be happier once he was back under their watchful eye, but he was still frustrated and embarrassed by his deafness.  It wasn't fair to expect the others to pick up his slack.  Keller was his problem, not theirs.  It was bad enough that Vin and Nathan were suffering because of the man's vendetta without the rest of them being forced to protect him, too.  

As if sensing his friend's inner turmoil, JD reached across the table and squeezed Ezra's arm.  Everything will be fine, Ez.  Don't worry.

Giving him a wan smile, Ezra replied, My infirmity must have left me rather transparent.

JD replied dismissively. It's only human to be worried about everything that's been happening.

I've never been accused of being human before, Ezra said with a sigh.  In fact, some of my former associates equated me with a robot.  Ezra could still hear his fellow agents laughing as they referred to him as Robo-Fed.'  He wondered if that was how his current teammates viewed him.  Was he Ezra Standish, the heartless automaton – a mechanical creature without emotions?  He shook his head.  That was just what Maude had taught him to be, so he supposed he shouldn't be surprised when others saw him that way.

JD rolled his eyes.  They're full of shit, Ez.  Besides, why do you care what those assholes think?

A small smile found its way onto Ezra's lips.  Good point, Mr. Dunne.

Ya got _real_ friends now, Ez, JD said earnestly.

I'm beginning to see that, Ezra replied softly.  It was a startling realization for him.  He had been questioning the motives of his teammates since he joined Team Seven, wondering at their unfamiliar behavior.  Now, though, he was starting to understand that they did indeed view him as a friend.  It was not something he had even considered, since he had never experienced such a relationship with his co-workers. He supposed that it would also explain their tendency to hover around him when he was injured, or their selfless actions in keeping him from harm.  Ezra found himself feeling strangely comforted by that, despite how unnerving it was to have others care so much about his well-being.  Maybe next time he wouldn't be so quick to run away from them.  With a smile, he lifted his glass of iced tea in a toast to his younger friend.

* * * * * * * * * *

JD pulled his motorcycle to the curb in front of Ezra's townhouse, intending to check the area before allowing his friend to exit his car.  The sight of Buck waving at him from the doorway, however, changed his mind, since he knew Buck would ensure the southerner's safety.  Hey, Buck, he returned his roommate's greeting.

Everything okay, kid?

No problems, JD replied, shaking his head at the concerned tone in the older man's voice.

Buck turned to the approaching undercover agent.  Hey, Ezra.

Mr. Wilmington. Ezra nodded at the other man.  How are Mr. Jackson and Mr. Tanner faring?

They're doing okay, just getting a little cranky at being cooped up.

I can sympathize with that sentiment, Ezra said dryly.

Buck laughed, clapping him gently on the shoulder.  Come on, let's get you inside.  You're too much of a target out here.

I don't need a babysitter, Ezra protested, though he was secretly pleased at Buck's concern.

Buck ignored his complaint and started ushering him toward the door.

I'll meet you guys at the office, JD called after them.  I want to run by the apartment to change first.

See ya later, Buck said. 

Mr. Dunne, Ezra began.

Thank you.

JD grinned and revved his engine before pulling out into traffic.

* * * * * * * * * *

Meeting his boss's eyes briefly, Ezra followed Buck into the conference room, taking his customary seat near the opposite end of the table.  Curiously, he eyed the laptop sitting on the table near his seat.  Quirking an eyebrow, he turned to his teammates for an explanation.

Nathan and Vin are bored silly and didn't want to be left out, Chris explained.  We had one of the techs set this up so we could conference them in with text as well as voice. He shrugged casually.  Didn't want you to miss anything.

Ezra looked at the chat' application on the screen, momentarily at a loss for words.

Chris took pity on his flummoxed agent and turned his attention to Buck.  Where's JD?

He went home to change, Buck answered.  He should be here shortly.

Josiah entered the room, stopping next to Ezra.  How are you doing, Ezra?

I'm quite well, Mr. Sanchez, Ezra replied.  

  Josiah settled into his own seat, dropping a stack of folders onto the table.  

_Hey, Ez,_ flashed on the terminal in front of him.

Mr. Tanner?

_No, this is Nathan,_ came the reply.  _Vin's in the next bed over.  I was elected as typist._

Ezra nodded, knowing that Vin's typing skills were not the best.  How are you feeling?

_Not too bad,_ Nathan replied.  _Vin keeps complaining.  Says I snore._

Ezra laughed, feeling some of his earlier tension drain away.

Any progress on your hearing? Josiah asked, once Ezra's attention was focused on him.

Ezra gave him a sad smile.  None yet, I'm afraid.

_It may take some time,_ came Nathan's comment.

I suppose so, Ezra said with a shrug.

Vin says you should be glad you can't hear Chris's bitching and moaning.

Ezra laughed again, grateful for his friends' efforts in making him feel at ease, despite the fact that they probably wanted to chastise him for his recent disappearance.  

Chris began.  Here's what we know:  Keller was released from prison a little over two months ago – something we should have been notified about.  His eyes took on a dangerous gleam.  I've already discussed' the matter with the FBI.

Discuss, hell, Buck interjected.  You ripped that guy a new one.

Chris shrugged.  He deserved it.  No one disagreed.  Keller has tried three times to kill Ezra, so we know he's not likely to give up yet.  He pulled out a file folder.  According to the file we got from the FBI, he made threats against Ez constantly during his trial and seems to be fixated on him now.

Ezra grimaced, remembering the vile comments Keller had spewed at him once he realized he had been duped by a federal agent.  Even after all this time, the angry words still made his skin crawl.

I know you don't want to hear this, Ez, but you need protection, Chris said, his expression serious.  Keller is a brutal son of a bitch, and you can't take him on by yourself.

Yeah, pard, Buck added.  We're a team; we back each other up.

Ezra raised his hands in defeat, giving them a wry smile.  I must confess that I agree with you in this instance.  I've seen first-hand the kind of brutality Keller is capable of unleashing on those who have crossed him, and I have no desire to face that alone.

Chris gave a sharp nod.  Good, cause you ain't going to.  Starting today, I want one of us with you all the time.  The rest of us are going to track down any known associates he may have in the area.  

_Ez, you shouldn't stay at your place, _Nathan said.  _He's already gone after you there twice._

Ezra looked up to find the others nodding in agreement, and he found he couldn't argue with their logic.

Why don't you take him to your place, Chris? Josiah suggested.  Of all of our places, it's the easiest to defend, and we won't have to be concerned with endangering any neighbors or passers-by.

Nodding thoughtfully, Chris turned to Ezra.  Is that all right with you, Ez?

With a smile, Ezra nodded his agreement, pleased that he was being allowed some say in where he went.  It seems to be the best solution.  He raised a finger.  However, I must insist upon doing my part to find Keller.  I refuse to simply sit by while he continues his attempts.

No problem, Ez. Chris readily agreed, knowing that his obstinate agent would do it with or without his approval.

I think we should check with our informants, Buck recommended.  The grapevine on the street is pretty good sometimes, especially when someone high-profile like Keller comes to town.

Get on it, Chris said.  And find out what's keeping JD.

Buck tossed off a cocky salute as he strode out the door.

_What can we do?_ Nathan queried.

You can rest, like you're supposed to, brothers, Josiah replied sternly.

_Vin says, !#$@#$%$._

Chris snorted.  Too bad Vin's mouth ain't broken.

My sympathies, Mr. Tanner, Ezra said with a barely suppressed chuckle.  You, too, Mr. Jackson.

Just get this bastard.

We shall do our best, Ezra said, his voice edged with determination.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dropping into his chair, Ezra set down his coffee, then reached over and turned on his computer, rummaging through some file folders while it started up.  He had been scouring through some old files for the past few hours, looking for information about several of Keller's cohorts.  It annoyed him that he couldn't avail himself of some of his regular sources, since the telephone was simply a useless hunk of plastic in his current condition.  Instead, he had to dig through his old notes and reports for any useful scraps of information.  

Rotating his neck to work out the kinks, Ezra set the papers down and logged on to the agency's network, hoping to track down the current whereabouts of some of the people with whom Keller had associated during his criminal career.  He immediately checked his email, hoping for more information from his former FBI co-workers.  Instead, he found a message that was apparently from Keller.  His face paled and his breath caught in his chest as he scanned the contents.  

Sucking in a quiet breath, he furtively glanced around the office, checking on the whereabouts of his teammates.  Chris was still in his office, while both Josiah and Buck had hit the streets to question their informants.  It only took him a moment to decide what to do.  Quickly, Ezra pushed away from his desk and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair.  With one last look toward his boss's office, Ezra slipped quietly from the room, hurrying down the hallway.

The doors closed and Ezra slumped against the wall of the elevator, trying to push away the image that had burned itself into his brain.   Keller had upped the ante in his deadly game.  The email he had sent only contained a brief message, but it was the photograph accompanying it that had galvanized Ezra into action.  He didn't think he would ever forget the picture of JD, tied to a chair, with blood dripping down his face.  Even now, his fists clenched reflexively, promising retribution for his friends' suffering.  It was time to end the game.

* * * * * * * * * *

The office was quiet, save for the clicking of his computer keyboard as he started off yet another database search.  Chris leaned back in his chair, listening, as was his habit, for the sounds of his men.  But all he heard was silence.  Frowning, he leaned forward, listening intently for any hint of noise.  No matter what they were doing, working or horsing around, his men rarely did it quietly.  Then he remembered that Buck and Josiah had left almost immediately following their meeting, leaving only Ezra in the outer office.  Normally, the undercover agent's voice could be heard as he called the people in his large network of informants, but he wasn't exactly able to use a telephone at the moment.  Still, an uneasy feeling rippled through Chris and he knew it wouldn't go away until he was sure everything was as it should be.

Chris pulled open his office door and poked his head into the outer office, frowning when he found it empty.  he called out, despite knowing that it was pointless.  After checking the break room and the rest room and finding them empty, Chris made his way to Ezra's desk to look for a note.  Ezra had seemed agreeable to remaining in the company of one of his teammates, and Chris didn't think he would have left without alerting someone or leaving a note at the very least.  At the desk, though, he found nothing.  

Frustrated, Chris dropped into Ezra's chair, running a hand through his hair as he reached for the telephone.  His hand bumped against the computer mouse, and he blinked in surprise as the poker game screen saver gave way to the email program used on their computers.  The shock he felt at seeing JD's bloodied visage was quickly replaced by anger at Keller and worry for his missing agents.  Committing the scant details of the message to his memory, Chris bolted for his office, grabbing his coat and speed-dialing his cell phone as he rushed down the hallway.

* * * * * * * * * *

The warehouse loomed in front of him, dark and forbidding in the waning light of day.  Ezra glared at the broken windows and dingy concrete, wondering if there was some unwritten rule in the criminal world that stated that illegal activities had to be conducted in decrepit old warehouse buildings.  Withdrawing his gun from his shoulder holster, he made his way toward the door.

The building was cavernous and filled with stacks of boxes, crates, and shipping containers.  Ezra cursed his lack of hearing once again, feeling exposed and vulnerable as he crept along the row of boxes.  A flicker of light ahead of him caught his attention and he slowed his pace, edging along the boxes until he could peer around the corner.  The sight that met his gaze made his blood boil.

JD was tied to a chair in the center of the room, his head lolling against his chest.  Keller was nowhere to be seen.  Taking a deep breath, Ezra stepped into the open, keenly aware of the potential danger to both himself and JD.

Mr. Dunne, Ezra called in what he hoped was a whisper.

JD's head jerked up, his eyes widening in surprise when he spotted Ezra.  Ez, get out of here!  It's a trap!

I'm not leaving without you, JD, Ezra said firmly as he stepped closer to the younger man.

JD shook his head, looking up in fear.  

Ezra sensed that something had changed and whirled around to see Keller standing to his left, a smile on his face and a gun in his hand.  Hello, Ezra.  Been a long time, hasn't it?

Not long enough, Ezra spat.

Put the gun down and move away from him. Keller waved his gun threateningly.

Ezra hesitated for a moment, then spotted the two large men approaching from the other side of the room.  He backed away slowly, setting his gun on the ground without taking his eyes off of the man.  You won't get away with this, Keller.

Keller chuckled, moving to stand beside JD while his men positioned themselves behind Ezra.  He grabbed JD by the hair, jerking his head back.  I've already gotten away with it, Agent Standish.

Leave him alone! Ezra demanded.  I'm the one you want.  Let him go.

But it's much more entertaining this way, Keller said with a crazed smile.  He reached behind the chair and lifted a plastic gasoline can.  You remember how much I like to have fun, don't you Ezra?

Ezra watched in horror as Keller tipped the can, dousing JD with the flammable liquid.  Setting the half-empty can down, he reached into his jacket and removed a blowtorch, lighting it and waving it in front of him, much to JD and Ezra's horror.  

What's the matter? Keller taunted.  Not in the mood for a barbecue?

You're insane, Ezra said, taking a step forward, only to be restrained by the two huge men on either side of him.  

Keller said, with a shrug.  But I prefer to think that my mental abilities are simply enhanced above the norm.  I've certainly managed to keep ahead of the law.

I put you in prison, if you remember, Ezra stated calmly.  You're not as intelligent as you have deluded yourself into believing.

Fury flickered in Keller's eyes for a moment, then he relaxed and shook his head.  Nobody's perfect; not even me.  He waved the blowtorch in JD's direction.  But I do learn from my mistakes.  He laughed and began pacing, turning away so Ezra could no longer decipher what he was saying.

Ezra scanned the area frantically, looking for some way out of this dilemma, while Keller continued to pace and rant.  JD caught his eye and carefully said, almost loose.  Keller and his goons paid no attention, so Ezra assumed JD had mouthed the words silently.  Nodding almost imperceptibly, Ezra turned his attention back to Keller, waiting for the opportunity to act.

* * * * * * * * * *

JD's felt the ropes fall away and immediately focused his gaze on Ezra, who gave him a slight wink in response.  It was time.  In one quick movement, JD leaped from the chair and tackled Keller, knocking the blowtorch out of his hands.  Taking advantage of the distraction, Ezra elbowed one of the goons in the stomach and kicked the other in the groin.  The fight was on.

Keller had at least six inches and forty pounds on him, but JD was faster and more agile, avoiding most of the blows aimed at him by the larger man.  Using one of the moves Vin had taught him, JD hooked a leg around his opponent's ankle, knocking him down.  Keller grabbed his arm as he fell, taking both of them to the ground.  

Keller used his superior size to pin JD to the ground while he rained blows upon him, oblivious to the gasoline that was pooling around them, spilling from the can they had knocked over during their fight.  They grappled on the floor, rolling around in the pungent liquid, until Keller landed a particularly heavy blow to JD's face, bouncing the young agent's head off of the concrete floor and knocking him unconscious.  Chuckling triumphantly, Keller turned his attention to the battle occurring behind him.  Picking up the blowtorch he had dropped during the fight, he headed toward Ezra, a manic grin on his face.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ezra had his hands full fighting the two muscle-bound men who worked for Keller.  He was starting to tire, and his hands and face, still sore from the burns he sustained during Keller's first attempt on his life, were beginning to hurt from the repeated blows he was both giving and receiving.  The men were much bigger than him and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer if he had to continue fighting both of them.  

Ezra waited for an opportune moment, then launched his fist at one of his opponents, putting everything he had behind the punch.  The man's head snapped to the right, spraying blood from his split lips as he toppled to the ground.  Unfortunately, the other goon took advantage of the fact that Ezra's focus was directed away from him, grabbing him in a choke hold and rendering him helpless as Keller approached.

Seeing JD's motionless form on the floor, Ezra felt his hopes diminishing and his anger growing.  He berated himself for not thinking things through before he left the office.  At the very least, he should have left a note for his teammates instead of just giving in to his anger and heading off on his own.  Ezra lifted his gaze to Keller, flinching when the smiling man again lit the blowtorch he was carrying.

It seems I _am_ as smart as I thought, Keller said smugly, lifting the deadly instrument to within  inches of Ezra's face.  You lose, Agent Standish.

Go to hell, Keller, Ezra spat, frustrated at his failure.  

After you, Keller said, grinning broadly.  Now, where shall I start?  He moved the blowtorch slowly down Ezra's chest.  Here?  Or perhaps here?  He moved the blowtorch toward Ezra's groin.  Toasted nuts – now _that_ would be painful.  He laughed aloud at his own cleverness.

Ezra simply glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of showing any fear.  A slight movement in the shadows behind Keller gave Ezra a sudden flicker of hope. Was it possible that Chris and the others had discovered his location and were here to back him up?  He silently chided himself again on his lack of judgment in taking on Keller alone and knew he would hear it from his associates later – provided he lived through this.  Shaking his head slightly, he focused on Keller once again.  It wouldn't be wise to alert the man to the possible presence of his teammates.

No, I think I'll start with that pretty face, Keller said.  Though it's not looking quite so pretty anymore after my little party at the warehouse.  

The blowtorch was uncomfortably close to Ezra's chin and he turned his head away to avoid the blue flames as Keller laughed and pushed the torch closer.  A sudden flurry of activity erupted, heralding the noisy arrival of Chris, Buck, and Josiah burst into the room.  Buck immediately headed for JD, tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carrying him outside the building.  Ezra took advantage of the commotion and kicked out with his right foot, hitting Keller solidly in the chest.  The blowtorch fell from Keller's grasp, lighting Ezra's pant leg on fire as it dropped to the ground at his feet.  

The goon holding Ezra decided that retreat was a good option and tossed Ezra aside as he bolted for the door, where he was stopped by the solid form of a very angry Buck.  Ezra's immediate concern was in putting out the fire on his clothing, and it was a minute before he realized something was amiss.  He hadn't heard Chris or Josiah's shouts, and was shocked when he looked up to see them frantically trying to beat out the flames that were rapidly engulfing Keller.  Mesmerized, he stared at the flames, oblivious to everything else around him.

* * * * * * * * * *

Buck handcuffed the goon who had attempted to escape, while Chris and Josiah put out the flames with a fire extinguisher they had found hanging on the wall.  But it was too late for Keller.  

I called for an ambulance,  Buck said as he raced back inside, then came to an abrupt halt.  Oh shit. 

Chris stared at the grim tableau and agreed with Buck's assessment.  Better call the M.E.'s office.  There's nothing the paramedics can do for him now.

Buck nodded sharply, swallowing hard as he turned away from the gruesome sight.  Aw hell.

Chris and Josiah turned around, groaning in unison when they saw Ezra lying unconscious on the floor.  Without prompting, Josiah and Buck lifted him gently and carried him outside. 

Be better if he doesn't see that, Buck said.  

Too late, Chris whispered, remembering the horror-stricken look on his undercover agent's face as he watched Keller go up in flames.

* * * * * * * * * *

_Flames, bright and scorching, danced in the darkness, crackling and popping as they created eerie shadows in their wake.  They spread quickly, almost mocking him with their brilliance as they stalked ever closer.  Ezra screamed, but no sound came from his throat.  He turned to run, but his feet seemed frozen to the ground.  The fire reached him, flames twisting and curling around him as they climbed up his body.  Ezra screamed again, helpless against the onslaught, until the blackness took him once again._

He awake yet? Chris asked, walking into Ezra's room with Buck.

Not yet, Vin replied from the chair beside Ezra's bed, where he had been sitting all night.  Thought he was gonna wake up a few minutes ago.  He was mumblin' and movin' around a bit.  He shrugged.

The doctor said there's no reason why he shouldn't wake up, Buck said, concern etched on his features.

Vin looked at his sleeping friend and sighed.  Maybe he ain't ready yet.

Chris nodded in agreement.  After all he's been through lately, I wouldn't blame him for wanting to stay asleep for awhile.

Hell, Ez never gets up if he don't have to, Buck said with a snort.

The other two men chuckled as they settled in to wait.

* * * * * * * * * *

_Fire.  Yellow and orange flames; twisting, laughing, screaming, as they devoured everything in their path.  The smoke was thick, choking him and searing his lungs. Darkness swirled around the edges, waiting for an opportunity to take him.  Loud, bloodcurdling screams.  Screams that wouldn't stop, growing louder and louder, until they flooded his senses, drowning out everything else.  _

Ezra sat up with a gasp, breathing hard as the last vestiges of the nightmare left him.  Rubbing a shaking hand over his face, he became aware of the worried expressions on Josiah and Chris's faces as they leaned over his hospital bed.

Ezra?  Are you all right?  Chris said.  Do you want me to call the doctor?

I'm fine, Mr. Larabee, Ezra said, giving him a weak smile.  

You don't look fine.

Ezra shook his head, wincing slightly at the increase in pain that action brought about.  _Time for a change of subject._  How is Mr. Dunne?

He's all right, Chris assured him.  Just a concussion and a few bruises.

That is good to hear, Ezra said, relaxing back into his pillows and closing his eyes.

Josiah turned to Chris. I think we should get the doctor, Chris.  He looks awfully pale.

I said I'm fine, Mr. Sanchez, Ezra said with a sigh.

Josiah whirled around and both he and Chris gaped at him.

Josiah said softly.

  Ezra opened his eyes and looked at them, puzzled at their behavior.

You heard me? Josiah asked.

Of course I... Ezra paused, then looked at them wonderingly, a grin forming on his lips.  I heard you.  His nightmares had been so realistic, so... alive, that he hadn't realized that anything had changed.  The relief he felt must have been obvious, based on the knowing looks on his friends' faces.  And for once, he didn't care what they saw.

Thank the lord, Josiah said, a broad smile lighting up his face.

Chris said with a wry smile.  Can't do things the easy way, can you, Ez?

What would be the fun in that? Ezra said, arching an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling happily.

Do you remember now what made you go deaf in the first place? Josiah asked curiously.

Ezra thought for a moment, then grimaced.  I'm afraid I do.  He swallowed reflexively as the images paraded through his memory.  I... I witnessed Pollard's rather gruesome demise.  He gave them a wan smile.  It is not a sight I would recommend.

Chris said.  Seeing something like that once was bad enough for me.

Josiah said.  Buck lost his lunch in the warehouse after seeing Keller.

Ezra flinched at the mention of Keller's name, the image of the man burning to death far too fresh in his memory.  Chris was right.  Seeing something like that even once was more than enough.  It seems the repeat performance was enough to jar my memory.

You gonna be okay? Chris asked, concerned at Ezra's pallor.

Ezra waved him away.  Yes, yes.  I simply need to focus my thoughts on more pleasant things... like getting out of this infernal place.

Doc wants to keep you for another night for observation, Chris said in a voice that brooked no argument.

_Another_ night? Ezra looked at them in puzzlement.

You've been here a day and a half, brother, Josiah said with a grin.

Ezra said, surprised by the revelation.

Guess you needed to catch up on your beauty sleep, Chris said with a grin.

I would prefer to sleep at home, Ezra said with a frown.  

You'll do as the doctor orders. 

Chris's voice was casual, but Ezra detected the underlying warning.  He rolled his eyes, but decided to acquiesce.  He had caused his associates more than enough grief lately, and this was the least he could do to make it up to them.

Buck pushed through the door in his usual boisterous fashion.  You're awake!

You have an amazing facility for stating the obvious, Ezra said dryly.

You must be feelin' better if you're already insulting me, Buck huffed cheerfully.  He turned to Chris.  JD's already whining about gettin' out of here.

So's Ez, Chris said with a grin.

Buck put a hand up to hide his mouth and said, But whining is normal for him.

A gentleman doesn't whine', Mr. Wilmington, Ezra replied, feigning indignation.

  Buck looked at him incredulously.  How did you...?

He can hear now, Buck, Chris explained with a smirk.

Well, hot damn!  That is good news. 

The nurse bustled into the room.  Visiting hours are nearly over, gentlemen.

Sure thing, darlin', Buck said, flashing his most charming grin at her.  Blushing, she made quick work of checking Ezra's temperature and blood pressure before hurrying out of the room.

Chris rolled his eyes at the effect his old friend had on women.  Don't you have a date tonight?

Buck said smugly.  With Tracey.  You know, that waitress at The Blue Rose.  The one with the big...

Never mind.  I don't want to hear it. Chris raised his hands in defeat.  Buck would never change, and Chris found he was glad of that.

I agree, Mr. Larabee, Ezra said.  I'm almost beginning to wish I were still deaf.

You're just jealous, Buck said, puffing out his chest.  You can only dream of having my animal magnetism.

Chris, Josiah, and Ezra looked at each other for one silent moment, then burst out laughing.

Buck glared at them, then heaved a much put-upon sigh, putting a hand over his heart.  I'm wounded.

No, but you will be if you're late for your date, Josiah said.

We better all get out of here before we get kicked out, Chris added.

We'll see you tomorrow, Ez, Buck said waving as he headed out the door.

Good night, Ezra.  Josiah added his farewell as he followed Buck.

You know, we're gonna have to have a little chat about you running off on your own, Chris said after the other two men had left.  You could have gotten yourself killed.

I did what I thought was best, Ezra said quietly.  I didn't want anyone else to suffer in my stead.

We're a team, Ez, Chris said patiently.  We're supposed to take things on together.  It doesn't matter if the target is just one of us.  Families take care of one another.  You got it?

I'm starting to, Ezra said sheepishly.  It will take some getting used to, I'm afraid.

Chris smiled.  Don't worry.  You've got six brothers here to make sure you won't forget.

Now that's a terrifying thought, Ezra said with a grin that turned into a yawn.

Chris patted his shoulder.  Get some rest.  We'll talk some more later.  He stood to leave.  You ain't expendable, Ez.  Remember that.  With that, he was gone.

Ezra stared at the door long after Chris had left, going over the words in his head.  No one had ever told him he was valued, not even his mother.  It was a strange, warm feeling – one, he decided, to which he could definitely grow accustomed.  It would be an adjustment, learning to depend on others, but Ezra was certain he could meet that challenge.  The rewards, after all, were well worth it.  With a smile on his face, Ezra fell into a deep – and thankfully dreamless – sleep.

**__**

**_Finis_**

* * *


End file.
